Dark Hunters
by Basilisk9466
Summary: Gotham City is experiencing relative peace. Crimefighters, masked and otherwise, are kept busy, but no real threat has shown its face. Until the sinister Wytech Industries unleashes something it can't control... Rating may change.
1. The Warehouses

_Greetings to you fellow authors and readers... Basilisk9466 here, exploring a new realm after recently gaining a Batman obsession. Hope you like what follows. Insert generic disclaimer here._

The explosion rattled not only the windows, but the entire buildings near the warehouse.

Smoke rose slowly, attracting attention from more than a few people. Police patrols paused, considering whether to investigate. Criminals quickened their step to get away.

Not that anyone investigated.

Wytech Industries did not appreciate investigations. Or interference of any kind.

Usually. Right now, the survivors would have been eager for someone to interfere.

A scream echoed out from among the collapsed pylons, a scream that spoke of painful death. Especially the way it abruptly cut off.

* * *

"Weird."

"You ever seen anything like this?"

"God no. Wish I hadn't seen anything like this now."

Gotham Police were used to a lot. The deathly grins of those poisoned by Joker Venom. The terrible hallucinations of Scarecrow's fear toxins. The horrific effects of Poison Ivy's more gruesome spores. The brutal injuries of those who went toe-to-toe with Croc.

This was worse.

All of the men and women that hadn't been killed in the detonation had been torn apart. With great artistry, as though whoever had done it had enjoyed the whole experience. Organs and blood decorated the charred and twisted metal.

"Sick."

The cowled figure looking down from a beam heartily agreed. Batman had seen more than most, but even this was worse than usual. With the arrival of another figure on the scene, he casually dropped to the ground. "Commissioner Gordon."

Gordon spun instinctively, and nodded. "Batman. Any ideas?"

"Something new," was the reply. "Not a style I recognise."

"I agree. If it were just one body, I'd say your average psychopathic murderer, nothing special. But we're dealing with dozens of bodies, and the business of the warehouse itself." The Commissioner sighed. "And Wytech have been unforthcoming, of course."

"As ever." Batman leapt back up to the collapsed rafters. "I'll look into it."

As he left the confused police behind, he noticed a strange set of slices in the metal. Like clawmarks.

"Cat?" he mused to himself. "No. Wrong size. And besides, mass carnage isn't your style... nor big explosions. I'd think Joker... but the killing isn't his style either."

He continued climbing up, thinking deeply.

Wytech was a major corporation in Gotham, but unlike Wayne Enterprises and its other competitors, it was distinctly silent. Few employers were local, and fewer still of those did more than move crates around. What was known was that it dealt heavily in armaments and military technology. Classified government deals galore from countries around the world.

So perhaps the warehouse had got on the wrong end of its own technology. Some kind of combat suit in the wrong hands.

It didn't bear thinking about. Someone with the firepower to destroy a military weapons warehouse, and with the temperament to kill with that kind of cruelty.

* * *

Harley Quinn sighed, bored. But she was a girl of her word, and the note had promised interest. Or at least more interest than Puddin' had in store, seeing as he was in one of his moods again. She took it out, read it again. "'East side, Warehouse 4-Alpha. Eight o'clock. Be there, and you'll learn something interesting...' Better be interesting, mysterious note writer."

She ambled through the streets, chattering idly to herself. "I spy with my little eye, something beginning with... S! Street. Yep. I spy is so boring by yourself... wish Red were here..."

"Wish granted."

Harley squeaked eagerly as Poison Ivy stalked out of another alleyway. "Red! Watcha doin' here?" Then she registered the sign above her friend. 'Warehouse 4-Alpha'. "Hey, did you send me that note? But Red, if ya wanted to see me, why didn't you just tell me instead of all the theatrics?"

Ivy shook her head, puzzled. "Someone sent me a note... thought it was you, seeing as you're here."

"And don't blame me, either." With a light spring, the dark, eared figure of Catwoman landed a few metres away. "Someone's lured us all here."

There was silence for a moment, then each reached for their weapons of choice. Then they spun.

Batgirl hurriedly raised her arms. "Hey hey hey hey... relax!" The sight of the miniature crossbow, the whip and the gun all aimed simultaneously at her was far from relaxing. "I got called here as well."

"Why do I doubt that?" said Ivy waspishly. "Seems too convenient. The three of us turn up here... then you do."

"Not her style," said Catwoman. "Come on, we've worked together before, the four of us."

"Not sure I'd call it working together. That was a truce," Batgirl shot back.

"I would!" said Harley, grinning. "After all, we aaaaaaaaaaall kept our promises there. We handed ourselves in at the end, didn't we? After ya caught that ice lady?"

"Ok, let's focus." Ivy lowered her wrist. "Assuming that we're all here, what do we have in common? How did we all get our notes?"

"Pinned to my door. With some kind of dart," Harley piped up.

Everyone nodded in agreement. Then Ivy frowned. "Batgirl... which door?"

Batgirl blinked, nonplussed. "What do you... oh. OH."

"Whoever sent us this knows your identity," concluded Ivy with a faint smirk. "And you call yourself a crime fighter. Can't even deduce that little fact without help."

The comment was ignored, as Batgirl pondered this. "I can't think of... I don't get it. Who would go to this much trouble?"

Thunk.

Harley carefully plucked the little dart out of the ground, testing the point and whimpering, sucking her finger. Poison Ivy made an exasperated sound and took the dart from her, examining it. "Same kind." She pulled a little slip of paper from it. "Same handwriting, too. 'Go into the warehouse.'"

"Uh. Red. Suddenly I don't think this is a good idea." Harley glanced around, trying to see where the dart had come from. "There's something very wrong here. That warehouse belongs to some big weapons company. Feels like a trap Mr J might lay."

Batgirl's stomach lurched. "Which company?" But she already knew. The large, stylised 'WI' told her what she needed to know. Not the friendly symbol of Wayne Enterprises, but the aggressively impersonal Wytech. "You girls do know what happened to the last Wytech warehouse in this side of town?"

Ivy and Catwoman nodded tersely. Harley just looked puzzled. "Puddin' didn't tell me nothin' about any warehouse."

"It got blown up, Harley my dear," said Ivy. "Blown to scrap metal, and the survivors killed horribly."

"So... even if this isn't a trap... we might get killed by whoever did that... by accident?" Harley gulped. "Not good."

"Give us some credit." Catwoman casually flicked her whip. "Between us, we're not a bad fighting force. Two of us have done a lot of damage to the cops, I've fought Batman to a standstill a few times... and you, Batgirl, are no weakling."

"Thanks," Batgirl muttered. "So kind."

"Anyway... no one likes competition... or at least unknown competition. I say we go in and check it out. And if it's innocent, then we lose nothing."

"When did you become so forward, Cat?" said Harley.

Catwoman just grinned, and flashed her claws. "I didn't suggest we go in the front door." She latched onto the concrete wall of the warehouse, and began climbing.

Then was a general shrug. "She's got a point," said Batgirl. A moment later, she vanished skyward on a grapple. Harley and Ivy looked at each other.

"How do we get up, Red?"

Ivy pulled a seed out of a pocket, and lightly tossed it onto the wall. It fell to the ground... and erupted into a vine clambering up the concrete, with stiff leaves for footholds. "Let's take the green option." She scrambled up it, closely followed by Harley.

* * *

"Hey! Ma'am! Ma'am, you can't come in here..." The policeman hurried over to the thickly-coated figure picking its way through the wreckage of the warehouse. Then froze as the woman turned to face him.

"I can do what I like," she growled. The laser beam glare pinned the officer like headlights on a rabbit, then turned back to survey the melted beams. An ID was thrust in front of the shocked policeman. Although calling it an ID was overgenerous. It was simply what looked like two Greek letters, black with silver highlights.

"Ah. I, uh, see." The officer swallowed. "This is still a crime scene. I'll have to check with the sergeant. And... I'll need a name."

"Do as you wish. And you may call me Atropos." She stalked into the remnants.

"Please, Miss Atropos..."

Without turning her head, her arm snapped out to grab him by the throat. "Just. Atropos." The coat sleeve was drawn back, and what looked much like a demonic set of scissors snapped out from its sheaths – razor-edged triple blades both above and below her wrists, curling around his neck and lightly touching each other. Her hand withdrew, just leaving the blades grasping him. One twitch of the machinery would neatly decapitate the unfortunate man.

He whimpered.

"You know what? I changed my mind," Atropos purred. "I'd rather not have it known that I'm poking around. Plus, you pissed me off. Made me reveal my weapons. Tut tut. Can you keep a secret?"

The policeman nodded slightly, his Adam's Apple bobbing.

"Good. A man who can keep a secret, always useful. And you know what they say. Quiet in life... silent in death." There was a horrible _shnikt_.

She dropped the headless body and wandered into the wreckage, an electric current snapping through the blades to clean them before they withdrew to their sheaths. "One cut police officer," she whispered. "Cover me."

The radio concealed in her coat pocket buzzed. "Copy, Atropos. Carpho will deal with it. Any sign of it?"

"Negative. This is Clotho's job, not mine, I'm no good at this."

"Atropos, Clotho's not expendable enough. If the target is present, she wouldn't stand a chance."

Atropos gave an irritated sigh and strapped on a set of goggles, prowling through the columns.

* * *

The security guard fell, senseless. Ivy caught him and neatly dumped in a corner to sleep until the pollen dust wore off.

"All clear?" said Harley from a shadow, far too loudly. She promptly covered her mouth. "Oops."

Cha-CLICK.

The sound of an automatic rifle being cocked can sound very loud. Ivy slowly raised her hands, silently promising Harley punishment for that slip-up. The strangled sound that followed made the temptation to turn around too great, though, and she did so.

Catwoman sighed, and stalked over to the pair, staying away from the railings that separated the walkway from the long drop to the ground. "Do you know how long it is since I actually had to knock someone out?" she whispered. "God, I feel so unprofessional."

The faint whirring of a batarang announced the arrival of Batgirl, and her disarmament of another security guard. A moment later, she joined them, a faint I-can't-believe-I'm-doing-this grin on her face.

"Why would this note-writer set up a meeting inside an occupied warehouse?" mused Harley, keeping her voice quiet this time. "Not that smart."

"Could be a test," said Ivy thoughtfully. "Making sure we can actually get past these thugs."

"Or a trap," pointed out Batgirl cheerfully. "We all get lured in here to some gruesome fate at the hands of some mobster. And, not to put too fine a point on it, girls, I'm the only one who can call on reliable backup."

She wilted under various glares. "Just saying," she muttered. "I've got Batman on my side. What have you people got?"

Harley raised her gun. "Can I shoot her now?"

Thunk. Another dart buried itself in the metal wall, and Catwoman tactfully pushed the gun down while reaching for the little thing. "Quinn, however abrasive her way of saying it, Batgirl has a point. Let's just stay friendly until we find our contact. Let's see... 'Down two floors. Room 8. Bring popcorn.'" She blinked at the last.

"Popcorn?" Harley echoed. "I don't have any on me. Should I go grab some?"

Batgirl ignored her, looking carefully at where the dart should have come from. It was impossible to see in the low light, and by the time she had her night-vision goggles on, there was nothing. "Hard customer to follow. Guess we go down two floors."

After a moment's thought, the four silently converged on a ladder set in the wall. Going over the railings was liable to make you an easy target for the guards.

Catwoman went first, but it was Harley who discovered the body with the finely tuned awareness of corpses that being around them in the company of the Joker tended to bring on. She nudged it with a toe, then a finger. "Think he's dead," she remarked softly.

"I _know_ he's dead," said Ivy curtly. "If he isn't, he's the first man I've ever known who can survive with his head twisted around like that. Looks like our friend has been doing some work for us."

More bodies littered the path to the indicated room, all apparently killed by something both strong and stealthy. The expressions of shock were a good sign that no one had expected their fates. By the time they came to a halt in front of 'Room 8', even Harley's normal bouncy personality had dropped several notches to watchful wariness.

It was Batgirl who broke the silence in the end as they stared at the door. "I guess we go in. All this killing means that I for one can't turn back without breaking my duty to Gotham."

"So noble," said Ivy. The remark broke some of the tension, and all four had to stifle giggles. It wasn't funny, but the prospect of facing this assassin was stressful, to say the least.

Finally, Harley couldn't take it. With a wound-up battlecry, she charged in, pistol aiming in all directions. A moment later, Ivy leapt in, crossbow ready.

The room was empty save for a large projector screen. Harley laughed a little sheepishly. Then the projector screen lit up, and something whirred theatrically.

"Greetings to you four..."

The screen showed a darkened room. At the centre was a barely visible figure, female judging by the voice. No other details could be picked out. Harley leapt into one of the chairs arranged in front of the screen, followed rather more sedately by her companions.

"No doubt you are wondering why you are here. I'll keep it short. I took out any guards that might run into you, but no sense in taking chances. And don't bother trying to find me. By the time you're watching this, I'll be long gone."

The figure sat back on a chair, obscuring her outline further. "My name is Needle. It's a name you'll probably know quite well before long. I intend to get a reputation, if you know what I mean. Now let me tell you a story. It's a good one, 'cos it involves the five of us."

The image switched to a security camera feed. On it, the unmistakeable figure of Poison Ivy was fleeing from an alleyway, grasping a large crate with the distinctive WI symbol. Clouds of spores drifted over the truck that it had apparently been stolen from, the guards apparently incapacitated by them.

"Got a bit of a grudge against Wytech, don't you, Poison Ivy? Can't blame you. It's a horrible company." The voiceover gained an amused edge. "You didn't quite pull this raid off, though, did you?" A caped black figure dived into the camera's view. The ensuing fight between Ivy and Batgirl played out, with Ivy finally withdrawing with the aid of more spores when Wytech guards stormed into the street to recover the crate. "Interesting side-effect you had, though. All kinds of wonderful genetic material that took an interest in your spores... and melded with them."

The view changed, now monitoring the inside of a factory. The purple-suited figure of the Joker was stalking through it, laying waste with a machine-gun and laughing maniacally. A pause, as the Joker yelled some order, and Harley Quinn scampered into the room, reeling out a length of wire. Smoke bloomed from off the screen, then an explosion. "Thanks to your exploits, Harley Quinn..." 'Needle' continued, "A lot of chemicals got mixed. Fortunately for Wytech, they were meant to be mixed, but not yet... so they got a bit rushed. Bear with me, this tale's nearly done."

The screen changed again. This time it was a still, a blurred image of a dark shape escaping through the window of a mansion. "You lit the blue touch paper, Catwoman. Stealing a _very_ valuable artefact from the collection of a woman who just happened to be on the technology board of Wytech Industries."

It returned to the shadowed figure in the chair. "Put it all together, and what do you get? An experiment done ahead of schedule, with contaminated genetic material, prematurely mixed chemicals, and intended to create a hunter to deal with the pesky thief. So you see, my pretties..." Needle laughed. It was a laugh that had definite predatory edge, with oddly seductive undertones, the laugh a big cat might make. "I owe my life to you four. If it hadn't been for you, and the experiment had gone according to plan, I would probably have died in the process. So this is a little thank you."

The figure leaned forward and seemed to grin. "I owe you all a favour. Except you, Batgirl. Before I left the Wytech warehouse that created me, I had a look through their database. Amazing what they know. Like who our masked crimefighters are. I think not revealing your identity to the world at large is a pretty good favour, don't you?"

She giggled, and the giggling continued until the film finished a few moments later.

Predictably, it was Harley who broke the silence. "Aww, is it over?"

Batgirl was out of her seat without seeming to move. "I need to go. Right now."

Ivy stood up at a much more leisurely pace. "Scared?"

"No," the other lied. "But I need to warn the others. It's all very well for you people, but we rely on our disguises."

"Yes, yes. You run along." Ivy just smirked as Batgirl fled. "Come on, Harley. We should make a swift retreat as well. You doing anything? _Mistah J_ got any plans?"

"Not that I know of, and don't take that tone talking about him!"

Catwoman was the last one left in the room, tuning out the fading argument between the self-styled Queens of Gotham. Although you wouldn't know it from her agility, she wasn't that young, and the voice of experience was screaming warnings.

Needle, whoever she was, was going to cause trouble.


	2. Hunters and Hunted

The alarm going off was mostly drowned out by the hubbub of the centre of Gotham, but if you knew what to listen for, it was clear as a bell.

Batman glided in the direction of it. One of Gotham's museums, which was currently hosting an exhibition of rare gemstones. Hotspot for theft, of course. Could be anything. Ordinary crooks or one of Arkham's rightful occupants. Nothing he hadn't faced before.

He hoped. The memory of the wrecked warehouse flashed through his mind. Mind you, it didn't seem likely that something that evidently psychotic would go for an apparently subtle attempt at robbery.

The rooftop entrance wasn't locked, and he stalked down the stairs beyond. The gemstone exhibit was on the top floor, so it would be hard for the thief – or thieves – to get away.

The Dark Knight quickly reassessed this assumption at the sight of the scattered unconscious guards in and around the exhibit. Sure enough, several valuable emeralds and rubies had been stolen, the glass cases crudely smashed by some blunt force. The same could be said of the guards, judging by the blooming bruises and broken limbs.

Something with a lot of strength, then. Croc immediately sprang to mind as he hurried down the next flight of stairs, looking for clues as to the foe's path, but it was unlikely that he would make it up this far. Besides, the ex-wrestler was still locked away, to his knowledge.

There. Through the glass doors, a small glinting object suggested that a gemstone had been dropped in the perpetrator's hurried escape. He glanced up at the sign: 'Sculpture gallery'.

Senses alert, he walked through the doors, scanning the room. He'd visited the sculpture gallery a few days ago, as Bruce Wayne, and knew that there were no other exits. Health and safety hazard, of course, but it was useful here.

And puzzling. Any thief, with the alarm still screaming around them, would make a break for the bottom floor and leave from there.

Most of what he saw seemed just as baffling as before, the usual strange, shapeless art. All meaningless. The second half, he knew, was more realistic. Portraits and suchlike.

Batman stalked deeper into the room, scrutinising every possible hideaway. Behind him, he could hear a storm of guards rushing past the sculpture rooms to go upstairs. Rather belatedly, he thought.

Nothing. The first section was empty.

Cautiously, he peeked into the second room.

Also empty.

He stopped, thinking. Could the ruby have been a false lead? But no, his instincts told him that the thief was in here. Soundlessly he walked in, one hand on his utility belt. Just in case.

Then he frowned.

One of the statues wasn't on a pedestal, just sitting behind a roped-off area. No sign or placard. Just a statue.

And it hadn't been there when Bruce Wayne had visited.

He peered closer out of curiosity. A recent addition, most likely. Made in some kind of black stone, it looked like – obsidian, perhaps. Certainly strange, the product of a diseased mind. A crouched, humanoid form. It was hard to make out more.

The Caped Crusader turned, glancing around the room. Nothing. But he wasn't alone. He could almost feel his prey in here.

He walked to the large windows, glancing through, wondering if somehow the thief had got outside. Then an uglier thought struck him – what if he were facing another Clayface? A shapeshifter? If that were the case...

Then another thought.

He prowled back over to the new statue, and stared at it. Surely not. No way was something that strange alive.

Nothing happened.

Then it grinned, revealing sharp, silvery teeth, and opened shockingly green eyes. "Damn. Almost worked."

The punch sent Batman reeling. He gasped for breath, snatching for a batarang and hurling it at the dark apparition.

The weapon caught the creature on the shoulder, and it hissed. With shocking speed, it lunged for Batman, claws flashing. The blows were just as quick as the creature itself but unskilled, and a lifetime of martial arts training allowed Batman to parry and send a punch back.

For all its speed and strength, it was light-weight, and staggered back a few paces, a long prehensile tail flicking forward to guard its retreat. It received another batarang for its trouble, this one catching a sharp blow to the muzzle.

The 'statue' squealed in shock and moved back another pace, then grabbed and hurled a small carving of a head at the Dark Knight, making him duck. It lunged forward, again quick as lightning to make the most of the advantage. Not only did the clawed fists strike, but the tail jabbed forward as well, and Batman was out of limbs to parry. A glancing blow from the tail caught him on the shoulder, spinning him slightly. A flurry of punches and slashes hammered into the Dark Knight, each barely guarded against.

Staying this close to his opponent was suicide. He judged the next punch, and rolled with it, letting the gained momentum take him a few feet away. As he rose, a bat-bolas was hurled at the snarling creature.

It collapsed, squirming, then shredded the rope with a twitch of those claws and was on its feet again. The tables had turned, though. Batman charged, using his superior weight to knock it down again, raining blows down.

The creature was simply too fast. A few punches connected, but the rest were simply dodged as it rolled away. The tail curled around his leg, trying to drag him down, but he narrowly kept his footing at the cost of his position.

For a moment, the two combatants stood, eyeing each other and panting lightly. The boundless confidence that had been in those green eyes to begin with had died down a little. Then, deciding discretion was the better part of valour, it scampered for the windows, smashing them without even slowing down and leaping out.

Guards crashed into the gallery, far too late. Batman ran for the window and leaned out, searching for the creature. No sign. He leapt out, gliding downwards and scanning for it, but the thief had vanished.

The Batmobile was ticking over in a quiet alleyway. Climbing into it, Batman suddenly realised that his opponent hadn't got clean away. A little fragment of skin had been torn away onto one of his wrist-spikes. It was only then that he let his injuries be felt, wincing at the bruises and gashes where those claws had connected.

With great care, he put it into one of the onboard computer's compartments. "Alfred."

The communicator flicked on. "Master Bruce?"

"Alfred, I need an analysis of this skin sample. Sending the data now."

"A new foe, Master Bruce?"

"So it would seem. I'll be returning to the mansion, I have a bad feeling about this one." The image of those claws slashing at him suddenly combined with the little clawmarks in the destroyed warehouse.

What if it weren't a combat suit... but a genetic experiment... he blinked, realising that Alfred was speaking. "Sorry Alfred. What was that?"

"I said that Miss Gordon wanted to speak to you and Master Dick in person, sir. She's on her way up here now. She said it was urgent."

"I'll be there soon." The main thruster of the vehicle kicked in, and it shot out of its hiding place and into the streets of Gotham.

* * *

Batgirl, still in her costume and pacing fast around the Batcave, shrugged off all attempts to calm her down. It was only when the Batmobile screamed into the underground fortress that she even slightly relaxed.

"There you are!" she snapped. "Took you long enough!"

Batman blinked as he got out of the vehicle. It was rare that she was this much on edge. "Sorry, I was busy fighting the latest addition to the rogue's gallery," he remarked. "What's going on?"

But she brushed past the question, bombarding him with her own. "A new villain? Who? Or what?"

"Alfred, has the computer finished its analysis?"

"The DNA was rather incomplete, Master Bruce, but it has a preliminary report." Alfred picked up his tray, offering the tea that had been rejected by all so far.

Dick Grayson tapped a key on the computer that dominated one side of the Batcave. A wireframe of the creature that had attacked Batman appeared on one of the screens. "Nice friend you've got, Bruce. Looks really cute."

Fundamentally, it was a very thin, wiry human woman. But there was little question of it, or her, being really human.

A series of long spines rose from her back, lying flat but apparently capable of being raised. Chitinous armour plates crisscrossed over her body, leaving only her underside exposed. The tail that extended out was nearly as long as the main body. The shoulderblades were exaggerated, rising up like guards around her neck.

The skull sloped back so that it almost looked like a cat's, with the slitted eyes slightly receded. Nose had blended with mouth to produce a befanged muzzle.

The hands and feet were spidery and tipped with claws; not hugely long, but they looked sharp. The arms were longer than normal as well, giving the impression that should she want, she could move around quite happily on all fours.

Batman nodded, removing his cowl and studying the creature carefully. "It was fast and strong. I think I surprised it by fighting back, which is why it fled. I wouldn't want to get into a real battle with the thing. Any idea what it is?"

"I can tell you right now."

All eyes turned to Barbara, who had also removed her cowl. "Her name is Needle, and she's a biological experiment of Wytech Industries that went wrong." Although the clip of Needle had kept the owner of the voice in the dark, the silhouette matched the computer image's profile perfectly. Besides, it was too much of a coincidence. "Listen, I got an anonymous message earlier, telling me to go to a Wytech warehouse. Turned out I wasn't the only invitee, there was also Catwoman, Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn. When we went inside, we found the guards had been taken out, and there was a film. It was... a 'thank you' note from Needle. The four of us... well, through a lot of coincidences, we turned what was going to be a failed Wytech experiment into Needle."

"Wait wait," Dick interrupted. "You teamed up with _Harley Quinn_ and _Poison Ivy_? Are you nuts? Catwoman, maybe, but..."

"Just shut up!" she snapped back. "The important thing is, Needle know who we are! She hacked the Wytech database, and the three of us are on it! _She knows who we are!"_

There was dead silence.

"Well, this isn't good," remarked Dick. "Did she spill the beans to everyone?"

She shook her head. "Said that she'd stay silent, as a favour to me in return for helping to create her. But that was just about me. She didn't say anything about you two."

"I think we need to pay Wytech a visit," said Bruce thoughtfully. He tapped a few controls on the computer.

"Hypothesis: human hybrid," it said tonelessly. "Unidentifiable DNA present. Multiple sources possible."

"What about its... _her_ abilities?" Dick suggested. More controls were pressed.

"Insufficient DNA to speculate."

Batman sighed and donned his cowl again. "Well, we know that she's fast and strong. And based on that tape, it sounds like she's young and inexperienced. That'll no doubt change. We need to deal with her, fast. I should head out again. We all should."

"Ahem." Alfred cleared his throat gently, and pointed to the little television screen that was always tuned to the local news. All eyes glanced to it, then Dick turned up the volume.

"...and in breaking news, what may be the strangest criminal Gotham has yet seen was caught thanks to the efforts of Detective Bullock and the police Special Branch." Summer Gleeson's smiling face was replaced by a blurry shot of what was unmistakeably Needle being dragged into a heavy police van. "Detective Bullock informs us that the being, calling itself 'Needle', was caught trying to sell gemstones recently stolen from one of Gotham Museum's exhibits during a routine sting operation."

Cut again, this time to Bullock himself. "Complete stroke of luck. She beat a few of us up, some of the men have been sent to hospital, but we got her pinned down with enough firepower that she surrendered. Gotham's latest criminal turned out to be a complete amateur, luckily for us all."

"I don't buy it," said Batman and Batgirl simultaneously.

"She perfectly timed and predicted the path that we were going to take and rigged a motion sensor to set off the film," Batgirl said. "And now she walks straight into a police ambush?"

"Not to mention that she simply vanished the moment she got out of my sight," pointed out the Caped Crusader. "Maybe she would get stuck in the middle of the police simply out of inexperience, but then to give up quietly?"

"You call sending several men to hospital giving up quietly?" said Dick.

"Yes," was the blunt reply. "She was clumsy, broadcasted her every move, and she still gave me a real test in that short spar."

"But why? Why would anyone effectively hand themselves in like that?"

"Ahem." Alfred drew their attention back to the broadcast.

"On the recommendations of the police involved, the trial of the creature will be taking place later this afternoon," the report continued. "Detective Bullock is quoted to have said that 'The sooner this thing is in Arkham, the better.'"

"I'm going to that trial," said Batgirl instantly.

"And I think Bruce Wayne is about to take a great interest in the activities of Wytech Industries, in the spirit of public-mindedness about the rumours concerning their warehouse," Batman remarked.

Grayson shrugged. "Guess I'll go with Barbara. I want to see this thing first-hand."

* * *

Elsewhere in the city, in an abandoned circus, the Joker sat back and roared with laughter. "That's your new centre of evilness, Harley? I don't even need to joke about it, that's funny enough as it is."

Harley Quinn shrugged. "I dunno, Puddin'. She seemed a lot smarter when she got us all in that warehouse."

"Speaking of which, Harley my dear, why didn't you try and kill Batgirl while you were there, or let me know about it all? You could at least try to act like the accomplice of a man who has people keeling over in the aisles, in both senses..."

She pouted. "Cos you kicked me out, remember? Said you was busy. If you don't want me around to help you in your plans, I don't want you around in mine."

The Joker just burst into laughter again. "Plans? You have plans? Harley Quinn, every incident that I've heard of you getting involved in _without_ me have been the schemes of that plant."

Harley spluttered, but it was mostly true – a lot of her criminal escapades had indeed been in the company of Poison Ivy. "Not all of them!" she objected. "I caught Batman and tried to kill him in that piranha tank before you threw me outta the window. And I stole the Harlequin diamond alone before I even met Red. And..."

"Yes, yes, details," he said airily, waving a hand in a dismissive fashion. "Enough arguing about that. Listen, I've got this devilish new idea..."

The phone rang and was snatched up. "Yes? Who is it?" He made a face. "Fine, fine, I'll pass her over. Same to you, greenie. Harrrrrrrley... it's for you."

Harley grabbed the phone eagerly. "Red?"

"When are you going to get your own line? I hate having to speak to that... man." Poison Ivy had evidently been considering using a less complimentary noun, but refrained. "Harley, did you see that report?"

"What, about Needle? Yeah, bit of a shock. Thought she'd be a tougher cookie than that."

"I'm not so sure. What are you doing this afternoon? I feel like a wander into town. One of the courts, perhaps."

Harley frowned. "Not much to ste- OH. Gotcha. One sec. Puddin'? Your wonderful plan gonna happen this afternoon?"

The Joker scowled, a rare expression for him, and shook his head. However little he outwardly cared for Harley, he did resent her being stolen away by 'the plant'.

"Yeah, I'm clear, Red. See ya there!"

* * *

A dark, heavy-coated figure ducked out of the stream of people and into a side-alley. "You called?" Atropos said softly.

"Target's out of range. It got caught." The radio made the other voice toneless, pinsharp but completely unrecognisable.

Atropos swore unpleasantly. "The police?"

"It knows we're tracking it. You know its capabilities, it went easy on its captors."

"How could it know?" the assassin spat back.

There was silence for a while. "Thallo got spotted. She's the only one of us the target would recognise. It must have got spooked."

"What the HELL -"

A high-pitched whine emitted into Atropos' earpiece, and she shut up, growling. "Thallo shouldn't have been out of headquarters. Why was she even in the area?"

"You don't have the right to start asking those kind of questions, Atropos."

"I've got the right because I've been put on the case. If you wanted the target dead, you'd have used Bia and consequences be damned. But you chose me, and that means we play by my rules in the target's territory. Which means anywhere outside of our holdings."

"Thallo isn't just one of us, she does have other responsibilities. She was called on said responsibilities. And remember what you're a part of, Atropos. You don't make the rules. You make advisements."

"You know very well -"

"You can save the attitude for when you're back here. Eunomia's onto it. You'll be called on later, but for now, you need to be out of the way. We can't afford questions, even if Carpho did deal with that body."

She sighed. "On my way."

* * *

"Order!"

The usual grumblings of the court room fell silent. The judge glanced at the notes for the next case, found none but a hurriedly scribbled note. He sighed. That rapidly assigned one. "Bring in the accused."

Out of the side-room came a pair of heavy-set cops. Close behind was Needle.

Just about everyone gasped. Barbara raised her binoculars, studying the creature. The silhouette on the tape, the projection of the computer had given her ideas... but seeing in the flesh was quite different. She noted the little rubber guards that had been hastily strapped onto the clawed hands and feet, making Needle's walk a little awkward.

The shocking thing was not the inhumanity of the creature. It was the way that, apart from the obvious, she was very human. A thin, wiry, oddly proportioned human with odd skin, but still human.

"Order!" the judge barked again to silence the mutterings, though he was shocked himself.

Needle smirked faintly at the effect of her appearance, and prowled over to the position indicated by the guards.

"Would you... uh... would the accused please state their name for the record."

She yawned. "Neeeeeeeeedle."

"Do you have any other name?"

A thoughtful pause. "Ahhh, if you want my old name... Ashley. Ashley Tryllat. Spelled with a 'wye' and two 'ell's. Not that you'll find that on any records, it got erased from them. Of that I have little doubt. Can we get on?"

"Uh." The judge scrutinised the creature before him. He had a nasty suspicion she was laughing at him. No, not just at him, but at the whole gathering. "Ashley Tryllat, you stand here accused -"

"I'm _sitting_." She was indeed perched on the edge of the stand. Someone at the back of the court tittered and was hurriedly shushed.

Now he was sure she was laughing. "You stand here accused of one case of theft, one case of arson, sixty-two cases of murder and ten of assault and grievous bodily harm. How do you plead?"

"Sixty-two?" She blinked, sat up straighter, and began counting on her fingers. Then she frowned. "I only get sixty-one."

The titter again, and this time it spread. In a sick way, it _was_ funny.

"Sorry, could we go over them for a moment? Fifty-two people in the warehouse, I made sure I got them all. 'nother seven in the other one. One 'cos I got bored. One up in the museum. Where's the sixty-second?" She spoke casually, interestedly. As though discussing the weather, not a murder list.

The judge glanced at Detective Bullock, who was standing in the wings. "One of my men who was guarding that warehouse that got blown up by you. Tore his head off."

"The warehouse that was _allegedly_ destroyed by the acc-" the Defence Council began.

"Ahh, shush," Needle interrupted. "Course I did that, who else would've? Yeah, yeah, I remember now. All kind of blurs into one, you know? Guilty on all charges."

In the audience, Barbara shook her head and nudged Dick. "She's lying," she whispered. "Look, that's the first time she's looked uncomfortable. Someone else killed the cop, but she's covering for some reason."

"Objection."

The judge looked up sharply. In the audience, a young, very smartly dressed woman had stood up and was making her way to the front. She smoothed out the immaculate navy suit for non-existent creases, and continued. "Apologies for the short notice, Your Honour, but I must argue against the validity of this case. The accused is the property of my clients."

"'Property'?" The judge looked relieved. Now he was dealing with someone he could understand. "Your name, Madam? And who, precisely, are your clients?"

"My name is Eugene Mataria, and I represent Wytech Industries. Your accused is the result of genetic experimentation by my clients, and has no rights of its own. It is our property, and thus our responsibility."

"You realise, Miss Mataria, that such a claim would result in the charges being transferred to Wytech Industries?" the Judge said.

Needle interrupted. "'scuse me. I'm a genetic freak of nature, whoopie, we all knew that. Doesn't mean I'm not human. I'm nobody's property."

Mataria ignored the outburst. In fact, she had yet to even _look_ at Needle. "It was generated from a mixture of genetic material. There was some human DNA in there, but not enough for it to considered human."

Needle rolled her eyes and raised a hand as though in a class. "Let me see. What's the correct way of saying this? Oh yes. _Liar, liar, pants on fire. _I am twenty-three years old, I was born and raised in England, got a job with Wytech Industries, was suckered into volunteering for their bioweapons labs, and got turned into this. Hello? Anyone else find it a _little_ odd that I can speak so perfectly, indeed chatter my head off, if I was born in a test-tube?"

Dick nodded. "Ok. Now I believe you. She could just go with what that lawyer's saying and get off the hook. She _wants_ to be locked up."

The judge was no fool. He stared at the impudent black apparition lazing on the stand, knew that he should push the case. There was something missing here.

"Objection overruled," he said finally. "If your clients wish to make a real claim for the accused's-"

"Why'd you ask my name if you're not going to _use _it?"

"-for the accused's inhumanity and claim her, or it, as their property, they can make a proper case instead of this eleventh hour objection."

Mataria bowed her head with a small frown, then went to sit down again. On an impulse, Barbara focused her binoculars on her, taking note of the little silver double-hourglass ornament pinned to her jacket, the two little figure-eights sitting next to each other. For some reason, it seemed important. She refocused the zoom, noting the way that the silver was just an outline, with what might have been obsidian making up the main body of it.

"With the accused pleading guilt to all charges, I must now pass sentence. Based on the behaviour and temperament of the accused, I hereby order that she be taken from this place to Arkham Asylum until it is deemed that she is no longer a threat to society. Dismissed!"

Needle vaulted off the stand, continuing to grin as the two police officers dragged her away. On the edge, Detective Bullock shook his head, muttering something about 'complete nutcase'.

* * *

"Time to go." Ivy stood, almost unrecognisable in her 'civilian' clothing, carefully applied makeup subtly altering her features. Harley, similarly disguised, also stood, trying to stifle her giggles.

"That was so _funny_," Harley whispered as they moved for the exit amongst the crowd of other people. "Reminded me a bit of Mistah J's trials, except he made a nuisance of himself instead of just cracking jokes."

"Exactly," Ivy whispered back. "She was playing the entire court. She wants to be locked up."

"Not just a pretty face, are you?" a new voice remarked.

Ivy glanced around, met the eyes of the speaker. "Selina Kyle," she said with a faint smirk. "Might've guessed you wouldn't miss this. No doubt the Bat's here too somewhere."

"Pamela," replied Selina, a sardonic edge to her tone as she pronounced the name. "Harleen. You're looking well."

"What did you think of our mutual friend?" The three continued to drift out casually.

"She's dangerous," Selina said flatly. "We've got too many psychopaths in this city as it is. Criminals I don't have a problem with, but Needle doesn't just kill, she does it with more glee than the Joker. You heard her speak back there."

Harley shrugged. "She's got a point, Red, she did seem even more Loony Tunes than anyone I've known."

"Harley, my dear, according to the great mass of humanity that surrounds us, we two are criminally insane. I personally wouldn't agree. Sanity is relative. How do you fancy visiting Needle in Arkham?"

Selina drifted away, concealing her worried expression. A few feet away, she noted the face of the Commissioner's daughter watching the drifting pair of Arkhamites intently. All the more reason to make herself scarce.

* * *

The woman known as Eugene Mataria slipped into a side-alley with a disgusted look. It wasn't her real name. She didn't actually remember her real name. Too many pseudonyms over the years, with only one name being constant.

"You were ordered to return to headquarters," she said to the apparently empty alleyway.

Atropos slunk out of her hiding place. "Thought it was worth sticking around. Just in case."

Mataria just stared levelly at the other. "You disobeyed orders. You're a good agent. Better than the last Atropos. But don't take any more liberties. Now get out of my sight."

The two separated, Atropos blending into the shadows again.

The other adjusted her suit slightly, and walked rapidly towards the Wytech Industries offices. There was work to be done.


	3. The Rich and the Deranged

_Several days later_

* * *

"Run, Harley girl! Batsy seems to have found us! Can't let him catch up, can we?" Tommy-gun fire sprayed towards the pursuing Dark Knight as the Joker giggled. Harley, clutching the stolen bomb-making chemicals in one hand and one of her trademark pistols in the other, obeyed and continued running.

The latest plot had not gone according to plan, mainly due to Batman's arrival on the scene far earlier than anticipated. She glanced back and screamed a warning – too late, as another caped figure neatly ensnared the Joker with a bat-bolas.

"Harley!" he called. "Why didn't you tell me Batgirl had turned up?"

"Sorry Mistah J!" She stopped, firing a few shots, and then lost the pistol to a well-aimed batarang.

Harley glanced around, weighing up her options. Puddin' was out of it, with Batman holding him up by the collar with that usual serious look. Batgirl was advancing. Out of support, out of weapons...

A familiar pink car screeched to a halt at the end of the alleyway, and she grinned. Ok, maybe not out of support. Puddin' wouldn't be happy that she hadn't tried to rescue him, but she'd make it up later. She turned and ran for the Rosebud, Batgirl's pursuit slowed by having to dodge a hail of crossbow bolts.

"Nice timin', Red!" Harley called as she leapt into the car. Poison Ivy floored it, and the car vanished into the depths of Gotham. A huge mound of aggressive creepers erupted behind it, forestalling any attempt to follow.

"Next time, you two," Batgirl vowed as she watched them go.

* * *

The orderly glanced into the cell, shivered, and tried to summon up the will to finish his job.

Most of the cells in Arkham had distinguishing features, little personalisations made by their usual occupants. Plants. Puzzle books. Little things. This one was different. For a start, the unusual bit about it was a security measure, rather than a choice of the occupant. Mr Freeze's icy cell was strange. But in terms of freakiness, the cell of Arkham's latest prisoner took the biscuit.

Mist drifted through the airtight room. Sedative mist, intended to keep the occupant permanently sluggish. The fact that it worked didn't make the dark, lithe form any less disturbing.

Needle looked up from the standard-issue bed she was lying on, and flicked her tail drunkenly. Then she got up, padding over to the door with a certain solidity of motion. "Something up?" She slurred the words slightly, her eyes not entirely focused.

The orderly swallowed, and tapped several commands onto the control panel. The atmosphere was flushed, replacing the drugged air with normal, then the cell opened. "It's time for you to come out," he said, feeling a little proud that his voice remained steady.

She raised an eyebrow. "That time already? This stuff screws with my head..." She lurched towards him, a fragment of her old grace and speed showing. He froze as she prodded his chest with one of her blunted claws. "Have. They. Sorted. Out. The. Food? I swear, if they feed me that slop again, I'm going to get violent."

The orderly fingered the little remote control on his wrist, the one that linked to the little collar wrapped around her neck. A backup sedative injector. "I'm not really in charge of the kitchens," he said, trying not to sweat too obviously.

She groaned and fell away from him, leaning on the wall rather heavily. "Hellfire," she mumbled. "All right. Let's go."

"Uh. The counsellor wanted to see you first thing."

"What, I don't even get to eat first?" She groaned again, put a hand against her forehead. "Fine. You're the boss."

As she was led through the corridors, other inmates passed them. Most gave her a wide berth. Those that didn't at least watched her warily. Arkham was full of notorious criminals, but none of _them_ had be kept permanently drugged.

For her part, she ignored them, focused on not tripping over her own feet. It was only when she realised that she'd been gently pushed out of the corridor that her gaze moved up to take in the counselling room.

"Good morning, Ashley."

Needle stumbled over to the obligatory psychiatrist's couch and sprawled on it. "When are you going to stop calling me that, Doctor? I've told you, call me Needle."

Dr Duraphin sighed, sat down and began polishing her glasses. "You know why, Ashley. We've been over this."

The tail flicked lightly. "Yeah, yeah. Multiple personality yada yada. Reaching my real self, yada yada. Going for the..." She frowned, and waved a finger vaguely. "What was I saying?"

Duraphin sighed again. She was a recent transfer to Arkham, and Needle had been of special interest to her. The days of sessions had been interesting, if more than a little depressing and generally giving the feeling of banging one's head against a brick wall. "Never mind names. Let's go to the usual ques-"

"AGH!" Needle curled up, hiding her eyes. "Doctor! I said I didn't mind spiders, but that doesn't mean you can bring a four-foot one in!"

The counsellor frowned and looked around. No spider. "I don't see it."

Needle peeked an eye out. "It's right there!" Then she groaned. "Wonderful. I've been pumped so full of drugs that not only am I hallucinating, I don't know I'm hallucinating." She looked at Duraphin with a pleading look in her eyes. "Doc, I'm begging here, turn the collar off. Just for a few minutes."

"You know I can't do that, Ashley," Duraphin said soothingly. "Please. Just relax. Take a few deep breaths."

"Fiiiiiiiiine..." Needle obeyed, stretching out. Then she began snoring.

"Ashley!"

Those green eyes opened, full of mischief. "Couldn't resist, Doc."

Duraphin couldn't help smiling for a moment, though it was quickly suppressed. However irritating these games were, they were why she didn't give up on Needle. It was a little fragment of humanity, of a playful little girl. "All right. Focus. Let's go back to the one we were talking about. The man you killed in that street."

"I told you, I was bored, it was something to do."

...and it was moments like that which almost made her give up.

"Come on, Ashley. No one kills out of boredom. There's always a deeper motive."

"Tell that to the Joker." Her voice was still slurred, but a sly element had entered it. One suddenly determined to prove a point.

"Even he has motives, Ashley. In my opinion, he's a pretty clear-cut case of someone who can't handle the tragedies he's experienced, and thus spreads them to others to gain catharsis."

Needle just smirked. "I'm not human. You can't apply human rules to me."

"You sure about that?" Duraphin held her gaze steadily. "I think I can."

Needle broke the eye contact. "I've got a secret," she remarked in a sing-song voice. "I've got lots of secrets. But I'm not going to tell you any. Well... I might tell you one. But you'll have to guess it. I suggest you find out what I eat. Yeah, that's a good way to start. Speaking of which, I haven't had breakfast yet. Can I go?"

* * *

"Mr Wayne. Welcome to Wytech Industries." The secretary flashed a perfect, dazzling, fake smile, and gestured to a seat in the lobby. "Mr Lagenn will see you shortly. I apologise for the delay, but things have come up."

Bruce Wayne nodded amiably and moved over to the indicated seats. Contrary to their dark, foreboding image, the lobby was large and sunny. It seemed to be made entirely of glass and clear plastic, with a minimum of metal. Above the secretarial desk, behind which sat half a dozen women clearly handpicked for their beauty more than anything to fit in with the pretty shiny image of the lobby, was a massive WI logo decked out in bronze. Tastefully located below was the company motto: 'Building for the Greater Good'.

He couldn't help feeling that there was a sting in the tail of that motto. A hell of a lot in the world claimed to be 'for the greater good'. Hitler had probably claimed that. That seemed to be the theme here, so far. Shiny, outwardly pleasant, PR-friendly surface, darker underneath. The lobby might be glassy and transparent, but the building it led onto was still dark, windowless concrete.

"Mr Wayne!"

He looked up. A slightly-built man in the same immaculate suit that everyone here seemed to wear was striding out of the elevator towards him, hand stretching out. He stood and shook it as the man continued. "I'm Mr Lagenn, I'm head of Wytech Industries' Gotham projects. This is Dr Varska, she's the overseer for most of our advanced technology initiatives here.

Varska shook his hand as well. She was also slimly-built, a pair of darkened glasses hiding her eyes. Her suit was a different shade from the standard black, grey and navy variants Bruce had seen, instead being a tasteful green. Pinned to her breast pocket was a small silver hourglass, with slices of obsidian in the glasses themselves.

"Pleased to meet you both," he remarked. "I'm sure you know the reason for my visit."

"Oh, of course!" Lagenn waved a hand, his tone jovial. "Very public-spirited of you, Mr Wayne, and I must say that in your position, I would do the same. This whole business with the escaped experiment has put the company in a bad light, I'm afraid. Come on, come on. Let's go to my offices."

"Thank you." Bruce was led over to the elevator, which seemed to have mahogany finish and a dark red carpet. It rose quickly as his eyes strayed over the floor buttons. There were only three actual buttons – the lobby, the admin offices and a briefing area – and a lot of unlabelled keyholes. "Lot of security," he commented, gesturing at these.

Varska smiled frostily. "With a company with so many advanced and classified projects as Wytech, security is essential. Even if an intruder were to get to one of those floors, they would have to pass a retina scan, voice check and identification by the guards. All the production work occurs in our warehouses and factories elsewhere. This is the R&D centre in Gotham. I'm afraid you won't get to view those floors. Counter-industrial-espionage. I'm sure you understand."

"Certainly," he replied. Inwardly he was disappointed, but hadn't expected anything different. No matter. He could still learn something here, if only by the responses they made.

The lift came to a half, and the doors clanked open. The corridors beyond were just as quietly luxuriant as the lift itself; the same red carpet, the same mahogany finish on the walls. Lagenn noticed Bruce's gaze, and smiled. "At Wytech, we think that comfortable working environments make for better work. Although it's not like this throughout the building, of course, we do our best to keep all our staff happy. This way, Mr Wayne?"

The office he was led into was no different from the corridor. Several large leather chairs surrounded the large, expensive – probably illegal rainforest wood – desk that had been polished to within an inch of its life. A large window looking out over Gotham took up an entire side of the room, while the two not taken up with the entrance had large bookcases. Shakespeare, Keats and Dickens were a few of the names that leapt out from one, while the other was consumed with advanced works from every branch of science.

"Take a seat, Mr Wayne." Lagenn swung one of the chairs around to face Bruce, still smiling. It was a higher class than that of the secretaries and lasted a bit longer, but it was just as fake. It seemed to say that this was a PR exercise. If Needle hadn't escaped, the meeting would have been out of the question. He himself took a seat behind the desk, while Varska remained standing, looking out over the cityscape. "Now. Where would you like to begin?"

* * *

The group that watched the meeting was a dark one. The lighting was minimal, and it was entirely impossible to make out faces. The most noticeable thing was the hard, pseudo-stone table between them; the figures and the chairs themselves almost seemed like a minor detail. An effect of the lighting. The large screen that took up one side of the room was currently the centre of attention, and each of the chairs that surrounded the table was focused on it.

"He could be an issue."

"He knows nothing." The second voice was dismissive.

"Bruce Wayne will be dealt with in time. For the moment, I have other concerns. Eunomia. You failed to recover the target." A third voice, one full of authority.

"I had little to work with," Eunomia replied irritably. "I'm not a miracle worker. The police operated faster than I'd anticipated."

"Your solution was flawed at best," the third said coldly.

"You should have left it to me." A fourth voice. The deadly purr of Atropos.

"You had your chance, Atropos. You failed to track it down fast enough. When Thallo returns to contact, the orders are to go to Arkham and make contact. Assess how great a threat it represents. Eris, Atape. You'll go a long as well. Just in case. Some Oneroi will be in reserve. If you think the problem is too great... eliminate it. I don't care about the cost. That thing knows too much."

"All it knows is what it found in the Wytech database. Very little." The second voice again.

"Very little is too much," the third ground out.

* * *

"Well, I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help, Mr Wayne," Lagenn said with an apologetic smile as fake as his previous one.

"I quite understand your position, Mr Lagenn," Bruce replied with a warm handshake and an equally false grin.

"Dr Varska will escort you out." Lagenn smiled again, and then closed the office door. Varska, who had said little during the meeting, showed no sign of breaking the habit as she led the way to the lift.

"I never asked, Dr Varska," Bruce said as they descended. "What's your speciality?"

She treated him to another cold smile, and he wondered vaguely if she had Mr Freeze's condition. "I don't have one. I believe in science and technology as a grand spectrum that must be appreciated in full to be understood at all."

She nodded slowly to him as he stepped out of the lift, then the doors closed and it rose up.

An hour wasted. Evasions, trying questions, mysterious answers... he'd learned nothing. Nothing about Needle, about their bioweapons program, about their clients...

The care was waiting outside, and he got in.

"Any luck, Master Bruce?"

"None, Alfred." He sighed. "I almost wonder whether it's worth pursuing. Gotham's hitting the good times. Most of the usual rogues are in Arkham. The Joker's out of the picture since last night. Just Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn loose. Unless you count Catwoman and her untraceable robberies. We're just onto the everyday thugs and pickpockets, with the occasional mobster for good measure."

"Indeed, sir. On the other hand, if the usual business is quiet, you have the time to investigate other issues. Not all scoundrels are out there with a machine gun and a manic grin."

"Needle has some of the best security Arkham as seen," Bruce said thoughtfully. "But I can't help feeling worried. I've seen a lot, Alfred, and this doesn't add up. I understand most of my enemies, but this one is new. Is she really just incompetent? Or is there more to this? We're playing with fire, Alfred. I saw the medical reports on Arkham, they don't know what to give her to keep her sedated, so they use all kinds of mixtures. I can't help wondering whether she isn't laughing up her sleeve."

The car swept on through the streets.

* * *

The official in charge of the visiting rooms couldn't help feeling puzzled. The two people in question seemed somehow familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on them.

The redhead just returned the gaze coolly, occasionally muttering something back to the chatty blonde. Finally deciding that he had more important issues to deal with, he turned away and returned to scribbling reports.

Poison Ivy breathed a quiet sigh of relief. As a wanted inmate, visiting Arkham was perhaps foolhardy. So far, though, the disguises had worked. Though it would help if her companion would be quiet.

"All I'm sayin', Red, is why don't we visit Mistah J while we're here? I mean, it's not any more risky than the plan already is, is it?"

_At least she's whispering_, Ivy thought darkly. "No, Harleen, we are not going to visit him," she hissed back. "A couple of scientists visiting one of their projects is one thing. If we start contacting the normal inmates, they will get suspicious."

Harley fell silent for a moment. "We could say that... um..."

"No."

She pouted, but knew that Ivy had a point. It was the entrance of three new women to the lobby that stopped her.

The first wore a neat, dark green suit with a little silver hourglass emblem pinned to the breast pocket, the dark glasses giving a cold appearance matched by the rigid, straight-lipped expression.

The other two had a universal 'bodyguard' look. Jet black heavy great-coats that almost certainly concealed a small arsenal went with the shades and high-collared shirts that had a solidity that implied armour. Both were small, but exuded an aura of quiet deadliness. Silver crescent moons were pinned to their shirt pockets, flat obsidian slices making up the rest of the circles. It seemed like they were twins, with identical features and ravenwing hair that made their skin seem deathly pale in comparison to all the black. The only thing that differentiated them was the long scar along the cheek of one.

"Uh..." The official spluttered slightly. "Miss?"

"_Doctor_," Varska said coolly. "Dr Varska. I'm here from Wytech Industries. You were contacted about my visit."

He licked his lips nervously as he scanned down the pile of notes on his desk. "Ah. Yes, here it is. Uh. You're not the only ones from Wytech here, you're right behind those two in the queue." He waved vaguely to Ivy and Harley, who were doing their best not to freeze guiltily. Having a real Wytech visit coincide with theirs hadn't been on the cards.

Varska eyed them, then whispered something to the scarred twin. With an easy grace, she prowled over to the two criminals.

"Can we help you?" squeaked Harley after a pause.

If you concentrated hard, it would be possible to hear a whirring coming from the bodyguard's head. The glasses, maybe. "Your names?" A tiny trace of an accent that might have been Russian or Scandinavian was audible. Then she smirked. "Oh. I'm sorry. Of course, I remember. Dr Tradicans and Dr Arlecchino, yes?"

Ivy's eyes narrowed. Tradicans. _T. Radicans_, the Latin name of the plant from which she took her name. And _arlecchino_ was probably the root of the word 'harlequin'. They'd been recognised. Why this sudden game? "That's right," she said guardedly. "I'm afraid you have the advantage."

For once, Harley had fallen silent. She was utterly bemused, but if Red knew what was going on, she'd trust to her.

"Erica Spitia." Spitia smiled at some private joke. "Just so we understand each other, Doctors. I'm sure that, given the situation, you won't mind if we see the prisoner first..."

She turned and sauntered away, and Ivy remembered to breathe. Something very strange was going on. For a moment, she had second thoughts about getting involved with Needle. If she was attracting the attention of people who could see someone like her and apparently not even _care_ except possibly as a provider of leverage...

But no. They were too far in now. Somehow, she had a feeling that Spitia wouldn't want her and Harley to leave. Though she doubted Spitia was the real name.

* * *

"What NOW?" Needle made a complaining sound. "You make me late for breakfast. When I get it, it's worse than usual. Then you knock me out with the collar when I try to teach the cook the error of his ways. Now I've got a headache, I'm hallucinating singing pink elephants, and I've got pins and needles all over. Aren't you done abusing me yet?"

"You've got visitors," the orderly said. He was trying to suppress a grin, because he and his colleagues had quickly discovered that being smiled at was sure to put Needle in a worse mood.

She groaned and sat up. "Come on then. Any excuse to get into real air." She stumbled out of the cell as the atmosphere finished cycling, then swayed gently. "Uh. Which way?"

As usual, she seemed to pay no attention to her surroundings. He couldn't help wondering for a moment why there was so much security around her. Sure she was a strange creature, but she seemed so harmless. Barely able to stand up properly. The sedatives had a big effect, of course, but even so...

"In there."

She flicked her long, thin tongue out, snake fashion, and stumbled into the little cubicle. Then she focused on the woman on the other side, and drew a sharp breath.

Varska smiled humourlessly, and nodded to the unscarred twin. Her arm lashed out without warning, injecting a syringe into the monitoring officer. He swayed for a moment, then went rigid, eyes staring blankly.

"Wonderful drug, that," Varska remarked. "Instant muscle lock and unconsciousness. Combined with dear Lyra's skills with monitoring... Now. Needle. How are you?"

Needle slumped against the wall. "Thallo."

"Let's stick with Varska. It's a less dangerous name to know. It was a remarkable failure on our part that you found out my codename at all."

The hybrid fingered one of the little controls on the side of the cubicle. "If I press this, I'll be out of here before you can do anything." There was a little fear in that slurring voice now.

Varska smiled tolerantly. "First, my dear Needle – and you should be honoured, I'm the only one who calls you that – you should realise that you aren't safe. Anywhere. Letting yourself be taken was an interesting move, but if we really want you dead, you'll die. And second... you can drop the act."

"Dunno what you're talking about," she muttered. "Listen. Varska. I don't care about you. I don't care about your little gang. All I want is to be left alone."

"Perhaps that can be arranged." Varska leaned forward. "We don't do anything without purpose. I'll cut you a deal, Needle. We'll leave you alone. My 'gang' will abandon our hunt for you. You're free. I think you could be an interesting creature, Needle, and I'd like to see what you do with your new life. But if you cross us and start spilling secrets in the wrong ears..."

She reached up and removed her dark glasses. Needle flinched and looked away. "Do we understand each other?" Varska said as she put them back on.

"Yeah. I think so."

"Good!" Varska stood and turned away. "And... restore!" The warden blinked, looked around, then nodded to the mysterious trio.

"All done?" he asked.

Erica Spitia smiled sweetly. "Yes, thank you."

As they walked off down the corridor, Erica glanced at Varska. "Bit of a risk," she whispered.

Varska seemed to be silently counting on her wristwatch. "Worth taking. Carpho would have a fit if we took down Arkham. This way..."

Lyra, the unscarred one, looked at the watch, puzzled. "What's the countdown? You didn't lay a detonator, did you?"

"A hunch. Five... four... three..."

Glass shattered behind them from the visiting room, and Varska looked up with a satisfied smile. "Time to run. After all, there's just been a break-out."


	4. Beginnings

Needle drew her fist back, and punched through the glass again, widening the already large hole. Her knuckles were slightly grazed, but tougher skin was another perk of her borrowed DNA.

The cubicle door slammed open, and several orderlies dived in. One grabbed for the control pad on his wrist, hitting the maximum sedative setting while the others held back until the drugs did their work.

She growled and crawled towards them in a drug-induced stupor. "Secret for you..." she whispered.

Then blood sprayed, and two men were writhing in agony. She grinned. "Your drugs don't work." Slowly she stretched out muscles tired of moving slowly and weakly, then focused her suddenly razor-sharp gaze on the last three.

Abruptly, they decided that they had better places to be. Needle lunged a pace, screeching like a banshee, then snickered and leapt through the hole she'd made. She couldn't afford to slow down.

* * *

When the three strange Wytech women came running out of the visiting rooms in the wake of the sound of smashing glass, Ivy instantly knew that an escape had occurred, and she was willing to bet that she knew who it was.

She looked at Harley, and grinned. "Shall we?" She reached into her pocket, and threw a handful of seeds at the amassing guards. Aggressive thorny vines erupted to panicked yells, then Harley tossed a laughing-gas grenade, making them change to helpless giggles. Civilian clothes tore, and Harley fumbled to pull on her hood to match her usual red-and-black suit when a black shape hurtled out of the corridor.

Needle paused, eyeing the pair. "Well, this is a nice surprise. Come here often?"

"Save the chit-chat," Ivy snapped. "Since we're all here, we might as well team up. We've got a car. Coming?"

"I wouldn't say no. I'll cover the rear." Needle snatched up one of the guards' rifles and stuttered shots as Harley charged forward, another grenade in hand and ready to throw outside.

* * *

Batman watched the security footage in silence. Commissioner Gordon shifted uncomfortably. "That was half an hour ago. Clean getaway. Arkham was in so much chaos from not only an escapee but what amounted to a frontal assault that it took a long time for them to get word out to us. At that point..." He gestured to the bat-signal. "Far too late, of course. Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn have plenty of experience in vanishing after their escapes from Arkham."

"How did Needle escape at all?" Batman growled.

"The reports are confused, but it seems she was faking the effects of the sedatives. You'd have to talk with the doctors in Arkham, I'm no scientist..." Gordon looked around, and realised he was alone. "Some day, I'm going to say something important and he'll miss it," he said with faint sigh.

* * *

"How bad is it?"

Batman sat back in the Batmobile and sighed. "Very, Robin." Even on the small communicator screen, he could see his comrade-in-arms tense. "Needle's escaped. She played us all like a fiddle. Teamed up with Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy to escape."

Grayson muttered something unpleasant. "Any clues to where they went?"

"None. Ivy's always been good at going undercover. The only odd thing is that only Needle escaped – with Harley involved, I would have expected the Joker to be out as well."

Dick vanished for a moment, then returned, pulling on the rest of his costume. "A lot of things aren't adding up, Batman. I'll come out to patrol. Shall I let Batgirl know?"

The Dark Knight hesitated. "If you see her. Between the two of us, we can probably handle those three."

"She'll want in."

"I know," was the reply. "Which is why I'm hesitant about the whole thing. You saw how wound up she was. Needle could be dangerous, but if Batgirl's that tense, it could get messy fast."

"I suppose." Robin sighed reluctantly, then nodded grimly. "Good luck. Oh, by the way... if I do run into Needle... any combat tips?"

"She didn't like batarangs. And whatever you do, don't let her put you on the defensive."

Dick nodded again, then the communicator switched off. Batman flicked the controls, and the Batmobile shot out into the streets of Gotham.

* * *

The Rosebud slid quietly into the garage. Poison Ivy had a lot of convenient post-breakout safehouses, which were bought and sold at random intervals. No point in taking risks. Too many of her associates were caught due to predictability. She liked to consider herself smarter than her neighbours in Arkham.

"Home sweet home," Harley said with a happy sigh as Ivy got out. "Hey, Toothy, you ok?"

Needle blinked at her. "'Toothy'?"

Harley just giggled and gestured to the sharp fangs that lined Needle's mouth. "Sure. I mean, they're pretty noticeable."

The other blinked again. "Toothy. I've heard worse nicknames." Then she groaned. "Ok, I faked all the other effects, but those drugs really are giving me a headache. Talk about needing a detox. Plus..." She reached onto the back of her neck, where the Arkham collar was still nestling, and pried it off, wincing before crushing the device.

Ivy leaned back in. "You two just going lounge in there all day?"

Harley hopped out, and offered a hand to Needle. The hybrid took it, and clambered out with a muffled growl. Then she bowed with a faint grin. "Much obliged, I'm sure... I suppose I should now be on my way."

"Wait." Ivy eyed Needle thoughtfully. "How good a fighter are you? I heard that you fought Batman."

She shrugged. "He probably came out of it worse than me, though I wouldn't have done so well if I'd stuck around for much longer. Why?"

"And you know who the Bat family are," the redhead continued slyly.

Needle nodded silently.

"And you owe us a favour, by your own admission," Ivy concluded.

The penny dropped. "Which one do you want?"

Harley skipped over to Needle, waving a hand airily. "We can discuss that later. Come on, Red, she's tired, she only just escaped... let's get some rest, some food, and then we can talk about who she kills."

Needle protested feebly, but the feeling of white-hot daggers through her skull didn't make her inclined to argue too much. So instead, she let herself be dragged along by the grinning harlequin, looking around the neat, completely unused garage, and then the house as she was dragged into it.

She did a double-take, and wondered for a moment if this wasn't a greenhouse. Prehensile vines draped down from the ceiling, creepers hung from the furniture – all non-wood – and casually attempted to snare her feet, flowers peeked out cheekily here and there.

To one side was an area where the undergrowth had been cleared somewhat in what Needle was slowly recognising as a sitting room. There, an assortment of big cushions and the occasional piece of gymnastics equipment stood out from the plants, along with the occasional bit of clown – or rather, Joker – orientated memorabilia. "Your half?" she remarked to Harley.

"Mmmhmmm..." She released Needle's hand, somersaulted over a branch and landed on a cushion, idly plucking her hood off. "Red doesn't much like me having Mistah J's stuff, but I always refuse to get rid of it." She gestured vaguely at a photo of a Jokerfish, a collection of assorted pistols, a small ragdoll clearly of the Joker. "I know he's mean to me sometimes... but I do love him."

Needle picked her way over to Harley's side carefully, concluding that she'd rather take the possible indignity of some practical joke or other than risk the wrath of Poison Ivy, either directly or indirectly courtesy of one of her plants. "Funny. I learned a lot from the Wytech database, but it was all kind of bland, you know? Words on a screen. Quite different hearing it from the horse's mouth."

This remark earned her a good-natured punch. "Who are you calling a horse, Toothy?" Harley plucked vaguely at her costume, then jumped up. "Think I'll go change." Then she did a double-take. "Hey, I never noticed you were actually wearing something. Didn't they take it off you in the funny farm?"

"They had to let me keep it, they didn't have anything in my size. Or shape," Needle remarked dryly. It was indeed hard to see against her dark skin, but there was a tight, form-fitting fabric covering her body, though the limbs were left naked. The fastenings down the back were covered by the long spines. "Courtesy of Wytech Industries. You wouldn't believe some of the stuff they had in that warehouse, I grabbed as much as I could before torching it. Few things that I'd have loved to find out about, but the guards took exception to me wandering into those areas..."

"Like those darts?" Harley vanished into the next room, and shortly afterwards came the unmistakeable sound of a disorganised wardrobe being ransacked. Needle just lay back, smiled, and wished the headache would die down.

"Those were one of them," she remarked. "Though they weren't actually designed for carrying messages. Seemed like a good use, though. Hey, where did Poison Ivy go?"

"Ahh, who knows with Red..." More scuffling. "She's my best friend, but she's a mystery sometimes. Maybe in her lab, she prefers being alone in there." She ambled back in, the tight harlequin outfit abandoned in favour of a loose shirt and skirt, then hopped onto the cushion again. "So, Toothy. You seem to know a lot about us, but I know nothing about you..."

"Me?" Needle blinked. "Uh." For a horrible moment, she felt like she was back in one of those counselling sessions, with someone ready to take down notes and make judgements on her. Besides, was it really wise to start opening up to someone who, given the twisted nature of Gotham politics, might become an enemy?

On the other hand, clamming up would hardly make a good impression. And looking at those cheerful eyes, it was hard to say no. "What can I say? I had a happy childhood. Born and raised in England. Nice country... certainly prefer it to the States. But they say the USA is the centre of the world... so, after university, here I came."

"What did ya study?" Harley's eyes went a bit distant for a moment, remembering her own years learning psychology.

"Metallurgical physics was my speciality. Basically working out how to make metal do what you want. Had a nice little project going when Wytech snapped me up – was making progress when they put out a request for volunteers to work in their advanced weapons division, and like a fool, I raised a metaphorical hand. My work got transferred to a storage facility, and I got entangled in Project Fury."

Needle sighed. "I was kind of low in the hierarchy there, so I don't know much. I think it was just some kind of supersoldier think-tank. Working on genetic alteration. Turned out they weren't that interested in my physics, they just wanted a lackey to test their procedures on. Was offered a lot of cash if I just stayed quiet and played nice... and then you pretty much know the rest."

"Why'd you go rogue, though? I mean, sounds like you were pretty happy with it all."

"I had a revelation." Needle fell silent for a long time. "I'd been the proverbial nice girl all my life. Straight as an arrow, blindly intent on being successful. And hell, I was. Good job in a big corporation, all kinds of prospects... and an utterly boring world. I liked my work, but suddenly, as I was recovering from the genetic splicing I realised that I'd never got into any trouble. Never rocked the boat. Hell, I'm a twenty-three year old virgin, that's how much of a straight and narrow path I'd taken."

She paused for breath, then continued. "Everyone's got a little voice in their heads, a voice that tells you to break rules just because you shouldn't. Just to see what would happen. But you almost never listen, because all kinds of consequences could happen. And no one wants to screw up their life on a little fit of rebellion like that. But then... I took a good look at myself in the mirror, and I realised that there _were_ no consequences any more, because I had the strength – and the claws – to do what I liked."

Harley had gone dreamy-eyed again. "Reminds me of meeting Mistah J. Suddenly the consequences didn't matter, 'cos I loved him and he loved me. We're the same, Toothy, we just got to where we are by different routes. You got the strength to take care of yourself, and I got love."

Needle looked thoughtful. "I guess the old saying is true."

"Huh? What saying?"

"All work and no play makes Jill a psychopath."

There was dead silence, then both dissolved into giggles. They were still laughing when Ivy returned, looking at the two in bemusement. "I don't want to know," she said with a faint sigh. "Come on. Food's ready. Then we can talk about our bat problem."

* * *

"Nothing. _Nothing_." Robin twitched restlessly, then stood and began pacing over the rooftop again. "We've looked everywhere between us. You have to hand it to Ivy, she knows how to disappear. But it's not her I'm worried about. If Needle starts -"

Batman put a hand on his comrade's shoulder. "Easy. Let's jump to no conclusions. Those three know that they're our primary targets, with the rest of the usual suspects in Arkham. Batgirl will be fine. If Needle had anything against her, surely she'd have done it on that night instead of making that charming little film. Besides, no doubt she'll have heard the news. She can handle herself."

Robin sighed, and stalked to the edge of the roof, looking down to the busy streets below. "I don't like it. We've faced dangerous opponents before, but there's always been time-out. I mean, you've been targeted once or twice, but there's never been a connection made between you and Batman. Usually however bad it is, I can get at least _some_ sleep. Now..."

The other said nothing. Truth be told, he had similar apprehensions. At least Needle seemed like the subtle type, if that attempted robbery where anything to go by. If someone like Scarecrow found out his identity... or, god forbid, the Joker...

Or Harley Quinn.

His heart leapt into his throat. If Needle had escaped with Harley and Poison Ivy... what if she told them? Harley would certainly tell the Joker. And Poison Ivy would come up with all kinds of devious plots as well. She might not be his worst opponent, but given that kind of information...

The Dark Knight stayed silent. No point in worrying Robin more. Hopefully Needle would keep her supposed promise and not reveal any names. And if she did... well, there wasn't much that could be done.

"Let's call it a night," he said finally. "We've been out for hours, and there's been no sign of even the ordinary thugs. I'd like to get a little sleep before tomorrow."

"Oh?" Robin moved to join him, then both dropped down to the Batmobile's dark shape, hidden in a quiet alleyway. "What happens tomorrow?"

Batman said nothing until they were both sat inside the soundproof canopy. No point in taking risks. "Some kind of meeting with a division of Wytech. A few scientists who are interested in developing some machinery that was put into storage for some reason. They wouldn't say what."

"Wytech? You think it has anything to do with Needle?"

The vehicle roared, and shot out of its hiding place. "I doubt it, but it's worth seeing. And besides, Wytech is so secretive that anything they've worked on could be interesting."

* * *

Poison Ivy blinked.

Needle looked up a little sheepishly. "Uh. Sorry. Forgot my table manners." Her long, thin tongue flicked out and slurped up a stray fragment of carrot from her muzzle. Considering the fact that she'd polished off the entire plate in around twenty seconds, it wasn't surprising that there had been some spillage. Then, with great delicacy, she leaned out and planted a kiss on Ivy's cheek. "Real food. I worship you."

Ivy wordlessly pointed to the assorted dishes haphazardly organised between the straying creepers that had occupied the kitchen. Needle squealed, snatched her plate up and scampered over.

"I wouldn't have pegged ya for a veggie with those chompers, Toothy," Harley remarked.

"All my life," Needle said carelessly, returning with a positive mountain of the assorted greenery and vegetables that made up one of Ivy's meals. "And my genetic changes haven't done much to my digestive system. If you'd tasted the slop they make in Arkham..." She stopped, then chuckled. "Wait, you have. And Wytech wasn't much better." With that, she began eating at a more refined rate, even using the knife and fork.

Ivy coughed, still a little embarrassed. "Uh. Right. You said you know who the Bat family are, Needle. Was that just guesses?"

The hybrid went deadly serious, shaking her head. "Wytech don't make mistakes. With the amount of data they collect, if they say something's true, it is. But you heard what I said: I won't tell anyone. Seemed like a fair deal to make."

"But if you were sent to deal with one them?" Ivy pressed.

"Then it would be fine." She swallowed, and her tongue rolled over her fangs, suddenly looking a long way from being vegetarian. "But I can't say, write, or do anything that would show them up. Hell, if you had them tied down right here, I couldn't take their cowls off. But nothing saying I couldn't snatch them up to bring them to you."

Harley pushed her plate away, looking thoughtful. "Knowing what you do, Toothy, which would you say was the easiest target?"

"Batgirl," Needle replied instantly. "Batman and Robin are kind of... near each other. I wouldn't want to face both of them at once, not alone."

"Then Batgirl it is," Ivy said with a ruthless smile. "There's my favour, Needle. Deal with her. Dead or alive, I want her out of the picture."

Needle went silent for a long time, finishing off the plate. Then she looked up, and grinned. "She'll be yours before sunrise."


	5. Capture

Had anyone been watching the high buildings, they might have seen a lightning fast black shape climbing through Gotham's skyscrapers.

Needle paused atop a balcony in one of the quieter districts, checking her surroundings and catching her breath. Her stamina was failing her, again. Blazing speed and a punch that could shatter bricks was all very well, but it came at a price.

Though she was quick on the recovery as well. Which meant that although her progress was jerky, it was still rapid – beyond the occasional slow bit after a particularly narrow jump. She'd practised her skills a fair bit, making good use of her claws to find purchase on the concrete and quick muscular spasms to get the distance to leap between buildings, but it was still pretty fresh.

She looked out across the cityscape, and for a moment felt envy for the grapples she'd seen Batman and Batgirl use. At least there you were trusting to whatever high-tech rope the devices used, not your own muscle. What if you misjudged? What if you screwed up your landing? You died, that's what happened.

Cynicism was such a wonderful character trait to have.

"Come on," she muttered. "Enough tourism. Bats to kill, all that." Needle latched onto the wall again, and began climbing upwards, still glancing around for anything worthy of avoidance. A police chopper in the distance, zooming along in pursuit of something or other. Nothing else.

The rooftop was a conventional, flat concrete slab. Nothing much of note, apart from providing a good launchpad to get to the next building. Then it was just another block to get to her target, the university.

Then half an hour or so to work out Barbara Gordon's room, and make the snatch. She paused again, thinking busily about how best to go about it.

"You're not touching her."

Needle spun, instantly spotting the crouching figure a few metres away. "Catwoman," she said cordially.

Catwoman stood up, a steely look in her eyes. "You're not touching her," she repeated. "As Batgirl is one thing. There, you're true enemies. She voluntarily goes into your world, into our world, and is fair game. Sneaking into her room and killing her like that is wrong."

Needle also stood, tail flicking. "You're saying that they get time off? You know it doesn't work like that, Selina Kyle." The name was stressed a little. "When you take your latest prize from whatever rich fool has been hoarding it, do you seriously believe that they don't consider themselves outside our world? They're still targets. No one is safe from our kind."

"If you believe that, you're no better than a thug like Red Claw or Daggett." Catwoman's tone became scornful, aggressive. "There are criminals and there are villains. Congratulations on shaping up as one of the latter."

"Thank you," Needle replied, beginning to circle around the other. "I'd hate to just be a criminal. Criminals just get prison sentences. Villains get respect."

"Like your new friends? Harley gets plenty of respect, doesn't she?" There was still a dose of venom in her tone. She wasn't likely to forget nearly getting minced by the Joker's sidekick. She moved to circle as well, the two moving like a pair of Old West gunslingers around the loose, gravelly surface.

"People take notice of her," Needle shot back. "You? You're barely known. Everyone talks about the epic confrontations between Batman and the Joker, the latest schemes of Two Face, the exploits of Scarecrow... but who remembers the sneaky little pussy cat? Normal life ain't an option for me, Cat. So I intend to make good use of my new skills."

Catwoman's whip snaked out and lashed at Needle, who leapt back, hissing. "If you want to get to Batgirl like this, you go through me."

Needle lunged forwards, covering the distance between them fast – and squealed as the whip found its mark again, catching her a sharp blow on the shoulder. She withdrew again, growling frustratedly while her opponent just smiled coldly.

Again Needle attacked, this time trying to flank her, and again the whip blocked her and grazed her skin. Even with the new hide her genetics had given her, it hurt.

A third attack was made, this one a high jump to try and get through Catwoman's guard, and again all she got was the lash, with the added indignity of a sharp kick as she landed awkwardly, sending her sprawling into the concrete. She leapt up, snarling, but the Cat was already at a safe distance, looking almost bored.

That expression was the last straw. Shrieking hellfire, Needle charged, eyes slitted, determined to attack regardless of what it cost. The whip snaked out once, twice, three times, and she stumbled, but she got to her favourite combat position – face-to-face. Then Catwoman's fist hit her bruised muzzle, sending her reeling, and it slashed back around with the claws extended. Blood sprayed out from a series of scratches along her cheek. Her retaliatory strike merely hit air, pain and shock destroying her accuracy.

Her tongue flicked out, tasted the cuts. The sharp tang of blood forced her mind back into working properly, and she made no move to pursue Catwoman, who was already waiting for the next lunge. "You can't kill me," she said in a low snarl. "Wound me, taunt me, block me, escape me, but you can't kill me. You can't defend her forever."

Selina relaxed ever so slightly. "Perhaps. But I can protect her from this game of yours."

"Why her?" Needle stretched her bruised muscles, wincing. "I know all about your dalliances with Batman, why so keen to protect her and not him?"

"He can protect himself," Catwoman replied evenly. "We both know that. Batman is who he really is. It's the other name that is his alter ego."

"Poetic." Needle glanced at the distant university buildings. "How did you know what I was doing?"

"I know Batgirl's haunts," Catwoman said carelessly. "Besides, I knew what kind of creature you were the moment I saw you in that court. The moment you got out, you'd start killing, and she's a logical start."

"I'm flattered." Needle stretched the other way. "This isn't actually my kill, though. I was hired. My rescuers wanted the Bat family reduced, and I did owe them... so here I am."

"You owed them," the other repeated. "Harley and Ivy."

Needle nodded carelessly.

"That means you owe me, as well," Catwoman said with a faint growl in her voice. "So I'll call that in. You don't touch her. You don't touch any of them, not unless they're in costume."

Needle just gaped, stunned. "You... you can't do that... fracking hell, Cat, do you know what kind of position that puts me in?"

"Work it out yourself," Catwoman shot back. "I didn't make you become an assassin. That's my favour, Needle."

Helpless fury washed over Needle's face, but she'd made her own rules. She had to stick to them. She owed Catwoman, and if that was what she wanted, she had to give it. "Forever is too big, Cat," she said finally. "I'll take your damned request and I'll honour it, but if any of them makes me their personal business, I _will_ strike back any way I can. Happy?"

"Good enough." Selina Kyle smirked triumphantly, then she was gone, leaving Needle alone on the roof.

Slowly Needle began retracing her route back through the city. It was so unfair. Having to break her oath to Ivy, because of that interfering bitch. And she couldn't even honour it in spirit, because of her other promise, not to reveal who the Bats were...

...and then again...

With a new spring in her movements, she continued heading back to the little suburban hideaway. Of course. So very simple.

If Mohammed won't go to the mountain, the mountain must go to Mohammed.

* * *

Harley jumped a foot as the sleek black figure slid through the window. "Toothy! You gave me a heart attack!"

Needle flashed a grin, then focused on Ivy, who was looking at her questioningly. "No go. Catwoman interfered. I can't touch any of them out of costume. That was the favour she asked for."

Poison Ivy made a furious sound. "Stupid furball. What's she playing at?"

Needle shrugged vaguely. Selina's connections with Bruce Wayne were no doubt a good reason, but she couldn't exactly say as such. "I'm going to keep my word, though. Batgirl _will_ be yours before sunrise. It's just that now I need your help. We need to do something that will draw her out into a position of our, or rather, my, choosing."

Harley made an eager squealing noise. "A trap! I love traps, Mistah J does so many of them. So how do we do this?"

"We hit the University. Hard and fast. Or rather, you two do. It's pretty common knowledge that I escaped with you two, and with your history, of course you'd stick together... but I'm an unknown quantity. If I don't look like I'm there, there's no reason to expect me."

Ivy held up a hand. "Let's go. You can explain the rest on the way."

* * *

Dick snapped awake at the knocking on his door. Automatically he checked the time – 4 in the morning. Then he checked through the window. The hazy outline of the Bat signal glowed against the clouds. "I'm awake," he called.

Alfred peered in. "I apologise, Master Dick, but..."

"I saw it," he replied. "What's going on?"

"The police receiver in the Batcave suggests that there is a problem at the University, sir. Master Bruce received a call and had to go out. We're the only ones in the house. I thought..."

"Of course, Alfred." Dick got up fast, heart thudding.

* * *

Harley sighed, bored as usual. Hostages quiet. Ivy busy rooting through the lab, searching for whatever. Then she spun in a high kick at the figure sneaking up on her. "Do you really think I'm that stupid?"

Batgirl caught the foot, and threw Harley down. "Yes, I do actually." She snapped out a batarang and flung it at her opponent's hand, knocking away the pistol that she was trying to draw. "You really are no match for me, Harleen," she spat, eyes blazing. How _dare_ they come here, onto her home ground? "You never learn that."

Harley Quinn growled, rolled to her feet and somersaulted to send a dropkick at Batgirl, which sent her reeling. "I have my moments," she shot back as landed on her feet again, snatching for her pistol again. Acrobatics was all very well, but a little gunpowder was better.

A bat-bolas winged its way at her, and she made an indignant noise as the device knocked her down. "Red!" she called. "Company!"

Batgirl raised another batarang, instantly spotting the figure of Poison Ivy – then being forced to roll aside in a dodge from the miniature crossbow. She hurled it as Ivy recocked the weapon, knocking her down. "Pathetic," she said coolly. "You trespass into the middle of the city, and you can't even slow me down."

Ivy got to her knees, grinning. "Who said we wanted to?"

For a moment, Batgirl was confused – then, as wiry black arms wrapped around her, she realised far too late. "Needle!"

"The one and only," Needle purred. Then Batgirl fell into darkness as one of the lab's tranquilliser darts was sunk into her neck.

* * *

"Robin! Where's Batman?" Commissioner Gordon sounded understandably agitated as Robin came to land just outside the police line.

"Delayed," Robin said tersely. He'd known it, he'd known it all along, but no, Bruce hadn't listened. "Who's in there?"

"Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn. They've got hostages on the ground floor, no explanation. I... I think my daughter's one of them. She's not on the roll call the University made."

"You haven't made any move to go in?" Robin knew better, of course. No way would Barbara have been in this area of the campus, not at this time of night. The lack of any mention of Needle was hopeful, but he was still tense.

"No. Batgirl said that she'd try to handle it. Turned up almost before we did."

_Of course she did._ Robin squeezed his eyes shut. Stupid, stupid girl. It was too convenient, far too convenient. This was precisely the kind of thing that would get her storming in – could it really be a coincidence? "I'll go in. She might need backup." He spun, firing a grapple up towards the higher levels of the laboratory.

"Robin... if my daughter is in there..."

Robin turned around to face Gordon with a grim expression. "Of course, Commissioner." Then he hauled on the line, and flew upwards.

His landing was a mess, going straight through the glass instead of coming to a halt on the brick. Very dramatic, but hardly stealthy. He froze, listening, and heard scuffling from the corridors outside the storage room he'd entered. But they were supposed to be below...

Robin peered through the door, and saw a flash of colour – even in the darkness, Harley's costume was unmistakeable. They'd moved, which probably meant they had what they had come for. He looked again, and had to suppress a groan. Ivy was hauling a limp, caped form with little yellow and blue highlights. Harley was just behind, looking around cautiously. Then they were gone, around a corner.

He wondered briefly how they had overpowered her – Barbara might not be as skilled as himself, thanks to Bruce's training regime, but she was no slouch. But then again, both Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy had got the better of even Batman on occasion. It took a lot of self-control not to just tear after them, screaming blue murder – but that was just an invite for whatever happened to Batgirl.

So he followed in silence, putting all his stealth training to use. He could track them easily – the steady sliding of Batgirl's body, and the occasional murmured comment. How they were going to escape, he didn't know, but evidently they were counting on the police not daring to enter the building.

He weighed up his options. He could go back out, tell the police that the hostage situation was over, and Harley and Ivy would be swarmed the moment they broke cover – but he risked losing them, and even if he didn't there was one last hostage. They had Barbara.

No. Best to just keep following.

A faint scraping sound. He slunk around the next corridor, and saw Harley's foot disappear up the lift shaft. Quickly he moved to the stairs, going up them as quickly as stealth permitted. Then, when they emerged, he could...

But truthfully, he didn't know. How on earth was he supposed to rescue Batgirl from those two? No, best to just follow for the moment. Hope that Batman turned up soon.

The question was, why did they go into the lift shaft? If they didn't expect to be spotted, why not use the stairs? Or even use the elevator itself?

He paused, trying to remember how the laboratory was laid out. Of course. The lift shaft went all the way to the roof, the stairs did not. You needed a key to get to the roof floor, but that was no issue if you were just climbing up the rope.

He toyed with his grapple, glancing at the window at the end of the corridor. If he was wrong, he could lose them entirely. If he was right, he could get there before them and lay an ambush.

Robin swore under his breath, and clambered through the window, firing the grapple up and ascending fast as it wrapped around the large aerial on the corner of the building.

Climbing over the small guard railing, he hunkered down next to the lift shaft, a concussion bomb ready in his hand. It was only then that he realised that the window had been open when he got there.

It wasn't exactly a warm night. So why would it have been left open?

He shrugged. He couldn't have been detected, surely. And besides, neither of those two had any way of climbing up the side of a building, not without leaving some trace.

Clunk. He spun, grabbing for a batarang, and saw an empty can rolling on the roof. He turned back, and his right arm was grabbed by a vice-like hand.

He yelped, the concussion bomb falling from his hand, and focused on his attacker. "You!"

Needle grinned. "The birdboy arrives. Wonder how well you do with a broken wing?" She wrenched the arm hard the wrong way, then released and punched him hard in the chest. He was knocked back, falling onto his injured arm, and nearly screamed as the torn muscles protested. Robin crawled backwards, trying to get another batarang, the grapple gun, anything...

"Pa-thetic." Needle stalked after him, grinning lazily. "We came here for Batgirl, and then you try to charge in on your white horse. So predictable, all of you. You're Robin, I presume?" She reached out and grasped his right hand. "Pleased to meet you." Then she yanked, hauling him to his feet and abusing the muscles further.

He gave a cry of pain, seeing the lift shaft open through tear-blurred eyes and the smirking faces of Harley and Ivy looking at him, the limp form of Batgirl lying on the ground. Rage gave him strength, and he punched at Needle's muzzle.

She squealed and released his arm, grinning. "The bird with a broken wing has a little fight. Get the Bat out of here. I'll finish him."

Robin tried to bypass Needle, and was smartly whipped by her tail for his trouble. Remembering Batman's advice, he scrabbled for a batarang, flung it at her. Being forced to do it left-handed spoiled his aim, and she didn't even flinch.

"Geez, you can't even pretend to fight properly." She pounced on him, pinning him to the railings and leaning heavily on that strained arm, prompting another cry. "I knew I'd get Batgirl tonight, but I didn't expect such a wonderful stroke of luck as this. But you know what they say... when life gives you a lemon..." Her clawed hand moved to his throat. "_Squeeze it to pulp._" She began giggling, the laugh of a complete psychopath, one the Joker would have been proud of. Black spots danced in Robin's vision as she cut off his oxygen.

Then she was stumbling sideways, clutching at her head and blinking at the batarang that had clattered to the ground.

"Back off," Batman growled.

Needle released her grip on Robin, and hopped backwards. "He was no fun anyway," she said casually. "So, guess it's round two for us, Brucey."

Batman tensed. Up to that moment he hadn't quite believed it. He'd been so sure that not even a supercompany like Wytech would have so casually unveiled his identity, that Needle had been bluffing... but no. "I knew you'd escape Arkham," he replied evenly. "Why the sudden change of heart on therapy?"

Needle hesitated. For a moment, she was tempted to tell him. What were the guarantees of Thallo worth?

Robin frowned as he looked at Needle through the haze of pain. It was the second time he'd seen her hesitate, the first being the odd admission of guilt in the trial. "What... what's your secret, Needle?" he said weakly. "Who are you protecting?"

"Who are you scared of?" Batman said quietly.

The moment passed, and Needle snarled. "I don't have a secret! I was sloppy, and then they were. That's all there is to it." Suddenly her playful, bloodthirsty mood was gone. She just wanted out. She just had to give Ivy and Harley time to get out with their prize, then she could vanish herself. She'd lost Batman before, she could do it again.

"Batman... they took Batgirl... Needle's stalling us..."

Batman instantly crouched, ready to take off after Ivy and Harley... then stopped. Needle just smirked. "Yeah. Not so fast, Batsy. Sure you could probably get ahead of me, maybe catch up with my companions... but you'd be leaving poor Robin here to my tender care. And Robin is in no condition to go chasing a car, much less fighting the occupants. So until I leave, you're kind of stuck."

A batarang winged at her, and she flinched, squealing. "You like those things too much!" Then she was frantically blocking and dodging the Dark Knight's attacks. In the days since their first spar, Batman had been training to deal with her lightning speed, and it was working. Partially.

She was slowly being forced back, but had yet to actually take a hit. And after the initial shock, she was sending the occasional retaliation – easily blocked, but it was looking to be a stalemate.

Then abruptly her defence crumbled, and a solid blow sent her reeling. She recovered quickly, but was panting hard. Batman redoubled his efforts, a sudden realisation coming to him. Needle was fast, Needle was strong, but she couldn't maintain it for long.

She began giving way fast, and then with one misjudged dodge, was sent sprawling against the railings. She looked up at the Caped Crusader, gasping for breath. "That's right... take advantage... of me," she said sullenly. "Next time, Batman, you're mine. And there _will_ be a next time."

Before he could react, she'd punched through the weakened, rusting metal and had vanished into the night, leaping for the safety of the city. He watched her go, and sighed. "Next time, Needle, _you_ are _mine_. Robin, can you stand?"

Robin nodded, dragging himself to his feet. "It's just my arm. She damn near pulled it out of its socket, and it feels like all the muscles were torn. Batman, she came out of nowhere, I tried -"

Batman gently put a hand on Robin's shoulder, but it was shrugged off as apology turned to fury. "This is your fault! I told you we should have warned her, but you thought it would only get her into trouble! Turns out trouble came for her _anyway_!"

"Now isn't the time," the other said curtly. "We need to get to the Batmobile, see if we can pick up the trail." He softened slightly. "I know I was wrong, Dick," he continued quietly. "If anything happens to her because of it, I'll never forgive myself. But the recriminations can wait. For now, we have a job to do."

Robin swallowed and nodded. "Let's go, then."

* * *

From a tall rooftop nearby, a quartet of figures watched. Each wore long coats that obscured their outlines, with hoods hiding their faces.

"She's an impressive creation. Unskilled, but impressive nonetheless. With a little combat training and some equipment, she would be formidable."

"She's also a rogue. We can't trust her. She should be eliminated."

"You had your chance."

"Atropos may have failed, but she's right. You know I could deal with this."

"At what cost? No, we stick to the plan. Thallo's idea has been approved of. So we stick to our orders, and watch."

There was a series of silent nods.

Orders were orders.


	6. Interlude: After the Storm

"…and although the GPD has refused to comment so far, the widespread activity after the rescue of the hostages suggests that the culprits, whoever they were, have got away with at least one hostage." The reporter smiled automatically, remembered the topic and quickly changed his expression to a grim one. He looked like he had literally been dragged out of bed and stuck in front of the camera with only time to throw on a suit.

He was spared further indignity by the return to the front newsdesk, where the anchor looked in a similar condition. Batman flicked off the TV receiver in the Batmobile, then returned to guiding the vehicle through the streets of Gotham.

"This isn't good," Robin said gloomily. "The media have got it. If we can't rescue her soon, they're going to work out that Barbara wasn't among the hostages taken, yet is still missing. Who was seen entering the labs? Batgirl."

"I know," Batman replied shortly. "But if we can't find her quickly, her identity might no longer be an issue. She might have some _interesting_ connections with Quinn and Ivy, but they will still –"

"Don't say it."

Abruptly Batman braked the car, eyes fixed on a silhouette crouched on an archway over the street. Robin focused on it as well, and moved to get out.

"No. Stay here. I'll deal with Catwoman."

"But –"

The Dark Knight was already gone, grapple-line yanking him up to the roofs. Cape billowing, he landed a few metres away from the other dark figure. "Selina."

"Batman." She twitched uncomfortably. "I'm sorry."

"About what?" the Caped Crusader growled. "Did you have something to do with this, Catwoman?"

"No!" Catwoman looked shocked. "God, no. I tried to stop them. Needle was going to abduct her. I stopped her, thought it was enough. Then I heard that the university had been hit… I didn't realise that they'd try again so soon."

"You knew that Needle wanted to kill Batgirl? And you didn't tell us?" The growl was harsher still, his fists clenching.

"No! Please, calm down. Focus. You'll never catch them if you're not thinking clearly. Needle's just the muscle. It was the other two. Probably Poison Ivy. Listen, Needle swore an oath to the four of us – me, Batgirl, Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn. That she'd give us each one favour. Batgirl's was to keep your identities secret. Ivy's was to capture Batgirl. Mine was to keep you safe, the three of you. So long as you aren't in costume, she can't touch you. That was why there was such an elaborate trap, they had to draw her out!"

She was right. Batman took a deep breath, trying to quell the anger that was rising. He'd been at the mercy of his enemies before, been in danger, but always it had been just him. Robin and Batgirl were always at risk, but that was part of the deal. But death and injury was one thing. Getting taken alive, at the mercy of those three… all because he had been slow in getting there. If he'd been with Robin, things would have been different.

Wouldn't they?

"Batman?" Catwoman moved a little closer. "You're shaking."

"I'm fine," he snapped. "Fine. Do you know where they went?"

She let it go. There was no point in pushing. On the job, no emotions could be admitted by the Dark Knight. "No. I'm not exactly in the good books of any of those three. But Needle was coming from that direction when I intercepted her." She gestured, pointing.

He turned to leave. "Bruce..."

"Don't call me that."

She sighed. "I'm on your side here. We both know that Needle could be the worst thing to happen to Gotham. I'm just saying, if you want my help, I'll give it."

Batman didn't turn around. She sighed again, and soundlessly left.

* * *

Needle messed up her landing, and sprawled painfully on the pavement outside the hideout. She cursed silently, then limped into the garage, noting contentedly that the Rosebud looked completely intact. No sign of any chase.

"Toothy?" Harley peered in, looking concerned. "You all right?"

"I'm fine," Needle replied shortly. "Did you get out safely?"

The other nodded. "Nobody chased us. Ya did a good job. What about Birdy?"

Needle smirked faintly, limping over to the clown and into the main house. "He won't be a problem for a while. Nearly strangled him, and his arm wasn't looking healthy. Batman interrupted, though." Her expression twisted unpleasantly.

"Fight not go well?" Harley guessed. "Cheer up. B-man's got a horrible habit of winning. We just put up with it."

"And take any opportunities that come our way," added Poison Ivy as she leaned against the doorframe into the corridor on the other side of the room. "I think we owe you one, Needle. Very nicely done."

The hybrid shook her head with a faint smile. "No. I owed you, remember? This is quits. Anyway. Just thought I'd drop in, make sure everything went to plan. I'd better head off."

Harley sent a pleading look at Ivy. "She doesn't have to, does she, Red? Come on, we made a good team tonight! How many times have we lost out because we don't have the kind of muscle Toothy has?"

Ivy looked carefully neutral. She didn't trust Needle an inch. Mind you, she didn't trust anyone, except maybe Harley, but the point still stood that she wasn't a people person. She didn't like relying on anyone else, and if Needle became part of the gang...

On the other hand, Harley liked her, and she did have a point. Needle was no fool, and she had successfully taken down two of the banes of crime in Gotham with apparent ease.

For her part, Needle was equally unsure. If she teamed up with others, they would be in danger... but on the other hand, they might be able to help her if They decided to go back on the deal Thallo had made.

"I suppose..." Ivy and Needle shared a smile, having spoken at exactly the same time.

"Yay!" Harley did a series of pirouettes across the room and fell into one of her chairs, grinning widely. "So what do we do first?"

"First," said Needle firmly, "I sleep."

* * *

"It could be a lot worse," Leslie Thompkins said dryly, "but she still tore you up nicely."

Dick flinched as she bound his arm. "It's not broken, then?"

"No, but there are enough torn muscles that you shouldn't use it at all. You're out of it for a few days."

He tried to stand, and was pushed down again. "I can't do nothing!" he protested. "Barbara's still out there. If Bruce goes against those three-"

"Then I can handle myself," Bruce said darkly. "Fighting Needle almost got you killed. I can handle this."

The hunt had been fruitless, and Robin's arm had grown steadily more painful. Now the two were in the living room of Wayne Manor. Bruce was pacing in front of the fire, while Alfred stood at a tactful distance.

"The odds are usually against us, Bruce, but not like this! You showed that you can beat Needle, but all three? Poison Ivy has come close to beating you alone, and Harley has plenty of tricks up her sleeve. You _need_ me!"

"You'll only hurt yourself more," Leslie said firmly. "Rest and nothing strenuous. Doctor's orders."

"But-"

"Not now, Dick," said Bruce sharply. "We all need some sleep. Tomorrow we can work out what to do."

"And if I may remind you, Master Bruce... you have a meeting tomorrow morning," put in Alfred.

Bruce groaned. "The Wytech scientists... then I really do need to sleep."


	7. Pieces

Batgirl drifted on the edge of consciousness, the claws of a dream still embedded in her mind. She was in the middle of a big exam, but people kept talking. And the invigilators weren't saying anything, and she didn't dare complain, because everyone around her was an enemy. Nameless thugs, mob bosses, all people she'd put behind bars. And so long as she stayed quiet, they wouldn't know it was her.

Thorny vines were growing visibly and curling through the exam hall. No one noticed them, even when a tendril lunged out and grabbed a man, squeezing him to pulp. And still someone kept talking. She tried to listen, but it was meaningless, gibberish.

The invigilators continued roaming. They were all faces she knew. Joker. Two Face. Penguin. Mad Hatter. Killer Croc. Scarecrow. Riddler. At the back of her mind, she realised that three were missing.

The words became clearer. "Batgirl... nothing... thought... honour?"

She saw Batman and Robin plunge into the hall, through the roof, standing in front of her. Then both fell, Robin clutching at the crossbow dart that had sprouted from his throat, Batman staring dumbly down at the blood spreading from the bullet hole in his chest. Behind them stood Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn, smirking triumphantly.

She stayed dead quiet. Maybe they still wouldn't notice her.

The two supervillainesses were mouthing words at her, little fragments of sentences.

"With pleasure," came a new voice, clear and full of purring menace.

Then Needle's fanged visage lunged into her field of vision. Batgirl screamed, and woke. Then she screamed again, as the real thing was standing inches from her.

"Think you scared her, Toothy," Harley tittered.

She was in what might have once been a basement, but now it was crawling with thorny vines. Several were wrapped around her, pinning her to the wall.

Her costume was still intact, which was something. The utility belt was missing, which wasn't. A few feet away, Harley and Ivy were smirking at her, in casual clothing but still menacing. The presence of Needle right in front of her was somewhat more worrying, though.

"You..."

"...won't get away with this?" Needle clapped her hands together, grinning. "Wonderful. I love it! Second day of organised crime, and someone says that to me! I must be doing well!"

Batgirl glowered. "Actually, I was going to go with something more along the lines of 'let me go, or you'll be sorry'."

The other pouted. "Spoilsport. Oh well. Almost as good. Anyway." She made a grand gesture, grinning at Harley and Ivy. "Here you have her. Batgirl. Who wants to remove this nice little pointy cowl?"

Harley danced forwards, a hand stretching out to grab hold of the cowl, the precious thing that was her only protection here... Batgirl struggled, trying to get her head away, trying to loosen the vines. All in vain. She squeezed her eyes shut as the mask tore away.

Mocking laughter echoed around the basement. "Like father, like daughter..." Ivy said in sing-song tones. "Might've guessed when the mysterious Batgirl appeared only with that framing of the Commissioner... very loyal, Miss Gordon..."

"Sweet, ain't it?" Needle gently ran a claw along Barbara's chin, then looked at her new partners in crime. "So what now? You've got one bat in your basement. What do we do with her?"

"Originally, killing her seemed like a good plan... but it's a bit different now." Ivy looked thoughtful. "She provides leverage over both Batman and the Commissioner. Worth keeping alive, just in case."

Needle nodded. "Good idea."

Batgirl breathed a sigh of relief, and the black, predatory creature grinned. "Of course... doesn't mean she has to stay intact..." Then she giggled. If she hadn't known before, Barbara was convinced right then: Needle was deranged.

Harley cocked her head slightly. "She hasn't done anything to you, Toothy," she ventured.

"Not yet," Needle said, twirling her tail idly. "Surely you aren't standing up for her? Hasn't she put both you and the Joker behind bars a few times?"

"Alive." Ivy turned and left with that one word. Harley left as well, looking a little uncomfortable. Needle turned to the helpless crimefighter, smirking toothily.

"If you don't let me go..." Barbara stopped, glaring as Needle just grinned wider, miming winding out the rest of the sentence. "You're loving this."

"Well, duh!" Needle snickered, and turned away. "Sit tight. Not that you've got much choice. Reflect on your fate, who knows, you might come up with something philosophical... I'd love to hear it when I come back. But for now, we've got villainy to plot." She waved cheerily, and vanished up the stairs.

It was only then, alone, that Barbara allowed herself to sob.

* * *

"Thank you for seeing us, Mr Wayne."

The Wayne Enterprises office was of the usual, utilitarian-but-comfortable type, contrasting with the luxurious falsity of Wytech. Bruce Wayne blinked himself awake, lack of sleep from both hunting Needle and worrying over Barbara's fate making him considerably less focused than usual.

The trio of Wytech scientists waiting in the room all had the neat, pristine suits that seemed to be standard issue for the company. The apparent leader had a Germanic look to him, with a neatly trimmed blonde beard and a shaven scalp. He leaned forward, offering his hand. "Dr Osterhoudt, at your service. These are Dr Saitan and Dr Lee."

Saitan was a stereotypical Oriental, with closely trimmed hair and a faintly squared-off appearance. He gave a small, professional nod as he was introduced. Lee had a more American look, with a slight chubbiness of build and features that was threatening to turn into fat, making him look uncomfortable in the suit. The large spectacles provided an odd counterpoint, changing his appearance from merely 'overweight' to 'geek'.

"Not at all," Bruce remarked, shaking hands. "When I heard that you wanted to get in touch with Wayne Enterprises, I was immediately interested. I wasn't aware that Wytech did any kind of external contracting. Please, have a seat."

There was an uncomfortable silence as the scientists and the various Wayne Enterprises officials sat, then Saitan cleared his throat. "This is not exactly external contracting," he said in tones as clipped as his hair. "It is more... recycling, shall we say. I am in charge of one of Wytech Industries deep storage units. It is where all the failed projects are moved, along with anything outdated... you understand the principle. One of the more recent transfers seemed odd, and after consulting with my colleagues, we have concluded that it actually has potential."

Lucius Fox frowned for a moment. "I don't understand. If it had potential, why was it put in storage? Wytech isn't the kind of corporation to suffer fools. Whoever came up with the idea must've had a good reason for shelving it."

Osterhoudt shifted slightly. "There is a limit to what we can say, gentlemen. Merely discussing this is still in breach of our contracts, despite the fact that the project has been shelved. Certain guarantees would be appreciated."

Bruce raised his hands helplessly. "Can't you even hint at what this mysterious project concerns?"

"It could revolutionise the field of armour and protective clothing," said Saitan, cutting across Lee, who looked like he had been about to speak. "Greater results for reduced cost."

Bruce's ears pricked up. Something which could improve his armour could be worth looking into further, especially with Needle on the loose. "You do understand that as a rule, Wayne Enterprises avoids any kind of military contracts. The last time we took such a contract was a disaster."

"That business with the Penguin and the stealth chopper," Lee remarked, licking his lips nervously. "Yes, yes, I remember reading about it. But Mr Wayne, what we propose isn't purely military. It has potential in that field, but it is far more flexible than merely soldier's equipment."

Bruce was silent. Anyone else making these kind of vague claims would be thrown out as charlatans. But Wytech Industries knew what it was doing... and if there was a chance to get some insight into their operation and gain a potentially useful new line of products, it was worth taking. He glanced at Lucius, who was clearly having the same thought process, and nodded.

"All right," Fox said. "We'll bite. If your claims pan out, we'll make sure that you are fairly compensated for your work; is that fair?"

Osterhoudt grimaced, then nodded. "Knowing your reputation for fair dealings, it will suffice for the immediate future. Something in writing would be appreciated, however."

"Of course, of course," Bruce said airily. "But we've made the first move. Now, what is this project of yours?"

Lee pulled out a metal glove, and passed it over to Fox. "Immediate thoughts?"

The CEO weighed the gauntlet thoughtfully, and shifted the fingers. "Some kind of steel or titanium alloy. Very flexible. Very specific molding, probably custom-made for one wearer."

"Estimated cost and time to produce?" the Wytech scientist prompted.

"A good ten thousand dollars, maybe two weeks for something of this quality. Plus material costs. A trinket for a rich man with an obsession for medieval armour, nothing more."

Osterhoudt smiled thinly. "Fifty dollars and around thirty seconds. Plus material costs."

There was general silence and dropped jaws. "How?" said Bruce finally.

"Living metal," Lee said.

"Living metal," Bruce repeated, still shocked, but now a little suspicious. "Would you care to elaborate?"

"The metal itself is not actually alive, of course," Saitan clarified. "But the device in question is designed to use magnetic fields to make adjustments far more intricate, at far less cost than conventional welding and forging. Metal has been rejected for a long time in the field of protection, due to the inflexibility and weight of the material. It simply isn't possible to get the right stress points for maximum effectiveness out of metal, while not having to be custom-made at comparatively greater expense. This is what we propose to remedy."

"So what do you need us for?" Bruce asked, leaning forward in interest.

"Materials, primarily. The original plans laid the ground work, and between us we have worked out how to eliminate the remaining problems. We just need the resources for the metal, which must be specially treated, and the remaining components for the chamber to be completed."

Lucius frowned. "But why _us_? Why not pass this onto Mortech? Why not find the original designer?"

"Well..." Osterhoudt shrugged. "We tried."

"Tried?" Bruce frowned as well.

"The project was tagged as having been initiated by employee #39805AT. We've looked, but there's no such person." Saitan looked faintly uncomfortable. "Some people who work for Wytech do simply... vanish. Presumably the project was moved into deep storage after the event."

There was general silence as the business practices of Wytech Industries were considered.

"Very well," Lucius said finally. "Do we have any existing equipment that needs to be moved from this warehouse?"

"The prototype Armourer can be packed up and ready to be transferred," Saitan said. "It will require some persuasion on our part to get it out of Wytech control. Call it a day or so. We will be in touch."


	8. Green Stuff

Number of guards, twenty. Number of secure vans, two. Number of escort vehicles, four. Number of police on alert, unknown. Number of helicopters on patrol, one. Number of criminal organisations stupid enough to attempt to hit the convoy, zero.

It threatened to be a dull night.

Deliveries of money between the banks of Gotham were far from immune to attack, as history demonstrated, but all the usual suspects – the Joker, Two Face and the Ventriloquist being foremost among them – were all locked up, behind bars. So there was a relaxed air among four guards in Van One.

"Ummm... I'll... call."

"Wimp. Raise you ten."

"Fold."

"Same."

"Who the hell bets before the flop? Fold. Five lousy dollars, you happy?"

"Very. You've proved that you're all weaklings that can be intimidated. Come on, next round, girls."

Allow the mind's eye to zoom out from the armoured truck, and rise up to the skyscrapers...

...to the three figures watching the toy-like vehicles far below.

"We all know our parts?" Poison Ivy gave Needle a hard look.

The hybrid flicked her tail. "Please. This might be my first big job, but I'm no fool. I know my job. You just do yours."

"And I'll do mine," Harley volunteered cheerfully. "So that's all fine, isn't it? Then, with some green stuff behind us, we can get back to the real projects. Gettin' Mistah J outta the loony bin, helping plants, and..." She paused, and glanced at Needle. "Say, Toothy, d'ya have anything you want to do?"

Needle just drew her lips back in a shark's grin, the elongated, sharpened canines and incisors living up to the nickname. "I'm working on it. Now we should get into position."

Harley mock-saluted, and then nimbly ran off towards the rappelling equipment to get down to ground level. The two remaining criminals looked at each other calculatingly.

"You don't think I'm ready for this, do you?" said Needle finally.

"You're capable," Ivy replied levelly.

"That wasn't what I asked."

"I know." Ivy gave Needle another long look, then vanished off to get to her position, leaving the hybrid crouching thoughtfully.

She shivered mildly. The catsuit-like garment she wore was good in general, considering her condition, but it wasn't terribly warm, given the lack of covering of her limbs. The thickened skin and faster heartbeat helped, but it was still cold, the wind whipping around the late-night Gotham skyline clawing at her body heat.

"Focus," she muttered to herself. The convoy was making its slow way around the maze of streets in this part of town, necessarily slowed and thus easier to ambush. That also meant it would be warier, but so be it. The dark grey vans, the black and white police cars, the beams of their headlights, all seemed unreal from this height.

Her gaze rose up to take in the rooftops, checking for any caped, vengeful figures. Batgirl, of course, would not be making an appearance, and if Robin showed up, she'd be very surprised. But the real McCoy, the one and only Bruce Wayne, would almost certainly be on the scene sooner or later.

Nothing.

Though that didn't mean that he wasn't there. She'd have to work at spotting potential enemies. Ivy's glare stung, all the more because she _was_ young and inexperienced. Wytech had given her a head start, and she'd been lucky so far. That didn't make her a killer supervillain overnight.

Looks like there were advantages to teaming up with these two. At least she'd have backup.

She glanced at the convoy, and judged that they were getting into the right place to begin. Flexing her claws, she began the perilous descent...

* * *

The convoy was just exiting the maze of alleyways it had ventured into when the bombs went off.

It was a mixture of laughing gas and corrosive spores. Two escort cars careened out of control immediately, their occupants giggling helplessly, while a third rammed into a building as the brakes and steering system broke apart. The remaining three vehicles screeched to a halt, disgorging armed guards and police. Overhead, the helicopter cast around wildly, looking for a threat.

Harley grinned from her hiding place on a balcony, enjoying the chaos, then raised the missile launcher to her shoulder. The rocket that exploded out of it buzzed haphazardly upwards towards the helicopter, which was too low to dodge. Fire exploded from the machine, and it spun away, desperately trying to find a safe place to crash-land.

Gunfire spat up from the ground. Even with the permanent lighting of a city, it was dark, and the fiery exhaust trail of the missile had lit up her location like a spotlight. She just laughed, ducking the occasional ricochet, and hummed cheerfully as she begin priming and hurling the rest of her arsenal.

The advantage with throwing explosives, she thought idly as the grenades began to go off, was that you didn't have to expose yourself to being shot. As the laughter began filtering up, she grinned widely. Mistah J might be in Arkham, but his work was still being done.

Below, guards were dropping like ninepins as the toxins did their work, gasping for breath through helpless giggles. A few with a little more initiative fell back, covering their noses and mouths with anything that could provide an impromptu gas mask.

As the onslaught ceased, the gas fading away – although the effects did not – the remaining half-dozen survivors huddled down, guns at the ready, waiting for the next attack.

Said attack came in the form of a hail of crossbow bolts, each tipped with an assortment of toxic saps and extracts. The return fire made Ivy duck, cursing the weapon. Her wrist crossbow had done good service in the past, but it had issues with both range and accuracy. Only one guard down, and the rifle fire had her pinned down.

It was also loud enough to mask the creak of one of the vans as something landed on its roof.

Two men were out of it before Needle was even detected, knocked out cold by vicious punches. Her clipped claws prevented her from doing much lethal harm, but sheer speed and strength allowed her to make short work of the remaining men. She blew smoke from an imaginary pistol, grinning widely, then froze as a pistol cocked in her ear.

"F-f-f-freeze!"

She strained her eyes to look at the last guard, weighing up her options. He was clearly terrified, and there seemed little chance that she'd be able to get the drop on him without him pulling the trigger. Slowly she raised her arms.

There was the crack of a pistol, and the guard's weapon flew out of his hand. Needle recovered fast, and brained him with a swift punch before smiling cheerfully at her rescuer. "Nice save, Harley."

"Any time, Toothy, any time... hey, Red! We need to crack these vans open fast!"

Ivy leaned out of cover, and vaulted over several insensible guards. "I was thinking we just take the vans... we don't exactly have any way of transporting the money, do we?"

Needle looked at her hands. "I don't think I'm equipped for driving."

There was silence for a moment as Ivy visualised what might happen if Needle were allowed to control any kind of vehicle, remembering the cheerfully psychotic approach she'd taken to the Wytech warehouse, before they'd met. "Probably a good thing," she remarked out loud. "Need someone to ride shotgun. Harley, you take the other one, and follow me."

Needle scrambled up the side of Harley's van as the clown girl hopped into the driver's seat and turned the ignition. Then the hybrid cocked her head, listening to something. Something that sounded very fast, getting closer... with a rocket strapped to the back...

Oh.

She knocked on the cabin door. "Might want to get a move on. We're about to have bat-shaped company."

* * *

The Batmobile screamed along the streets of Gotham towards the scene of the crime like a demon rising from the pit, going far faster than any sane driver would in the middle of a city.

The police radio chattered, but Batman ignored it. The important information, that reinforcements were still a little way away, was all he needed to know. They'd been arrogant enough to think that there was no threat, and now they were paying the price.

His only regret was that _he_ had not predicted this either.

He eased off the throttle, swinging the vehicle around a corner. Ahead was the chaotic remnants of the attack, and beyond, the vans streaking away.

The Caped Crusader growled, and swung the Batmobile into a side street. With the bodies and wreckage of the attack, a straight pursuit wouldn't be safe. Hopefully he could intercept them further along. Before the vans left sight, however, a launcher in the chassis hurled a homing beacon at the trailing one.

Automatically the tracking computer came online, plotting the movement of the beacon. It was moving fast, out towards the river, but it was hard to tell which bridge, if a crossing was planned, they were going to use. He tapped a control as he swung through the tight alleyways, narrowly avoiding ramming parked cars.

"Gordon here." The Commissioner sounded stressed, but that was to be expected after a five-million-dollar-robbery.

"It's me." Batman paused as he pulled around another corner and onto a straight stretch, kicking in the afterburners for a short burst. "They're headed for the river. They commandeered the vans."

"We'll try to cut them off there. Don't count on air support, they might have more rockets."

Batman cut the transmission. There never seemed much point in any cheery farewells. Their relationship was, after all, all business. Gordon would do his job, and he would do his.

The road took another corner, and without warning the Batmobile was going along one of the main streets. Not far ahead, the two vans roared along, apparently oblivious to his pursuit. He opened the throttle, gaining fast. They wouldn't escape him... not this time...

The rear van lurched sideways sharply. As they left the quieter districts and began to re-enter the traffic, several cars were forced to swerve off the road. He gritted his teeth. Blocking him from overtaking and forcing them to stop. No matter. Sooner or later, he'd have an opening.

In a cloud of smoke and a scream of burning rubber, the van braked, and the Dark Knight had to brake sharply himself to avoid piling into the armoured truck. As it began to accelerate again, a black shape detached itself from the roof, and leapt for the Batmobile.

Landing as elegantly as a ballerina, Needle grinned cheerfully at him through the windscreen. Clutched in one hand was a crowbar, and with a grim certainly, he knew that she could do a lot of damage with it.

Batman switched on the autopilot to follow the tracking beacon, and opened the cockpit. This would be a first, he reflected. A fight on top of the Batmobile, while it was moving, without a driver.

"Hallooo!" Needle waved with the crowbar, still grinning. "We meet again! If this keeps up, we'll be going out on dates!"

"It's _over_, Needle," he growled.

She feigned a yawn, then slashed forwards with the crowbar. The curved end whistled inaudibly among the roar of engines, blaring of horns and screeching of tires. He pulled back awkwardly, realising that the narrow, if long, body of the Batmobile made this a potentially difficult fight.

As the crowbar sliced again, he amended this to _definitely_ a difficult fight. A bat-bolas was snatched from his belt and hurled in return, but it was swatted aside with ease thanks to the hybrid's lightning reflexes. "Next toy!" She grinned, and lunged forwards a third time, making him back off again.

It was a feint. The crowbar whined down at an angle and buried itself in the wheel arch of the Batmobile, digging aggressively into the tire and shredding it.

The vehicle swerved violently, and both combatants clutched desperately at the metal body. They looked at each other, Needle still grinning.

The tire was shed, and a replacement fed into place automatically. Because of the positioning of the crowbar, the new one was promptly punctured as well. Again the Batmobile violently swerved, hitting against the wall, sparks shrieking out and the crowbar bending violently around the chassis.

"Good luck driving now!" Needle mock-saluted, and leapt off onto a car passing in the opposite direction, quickly vanishing from view. Batman swore, reached down into the cockpit, and flipped the lockdown switch. It screeched to a halt, cockpit sealing, and he grabbed his grapple and went skyward.

The vans were distantly visible, pulling around a corner, away from the river. He cursed. A ploy. They'd known that he would come, and had laid a trap, hoping that Needle would slow him down.

Much as he hated letting the infuriating mutant get away, the vans, with their cargo, were the priority. The grapple spat wire, and he soared skyward, hoping he could catch up.

For a moment, perched on a convenient skyscraper, it seemed like he'd lost them. Then an explosion lit the night near a tunnel entrance, and the two vans roared through the flaming wreckage and underground. He readied a grapple, trying to remember how the tunnel went. Four different exits, one of which they'd just used to get in. One doubled back towards the docks, one went into the heart of the city, and one headed for the the quieter sections of the city.

The Dark Knight knew that he'd never be able keep up with them if he went into the tunnels himself. The only chance was to try and predict which exit they would use, and cut them off. The centre of Gotham would be a deathtrap for the pair, and they must know that the cops would be lining up along the docks... so he went for the fourth exit. As he flew on the grapple line towards a convenient gargoyle, a silhouette caught his eye, standing on a high building.

A sudden unpleasant feeling twisted in his stomach. He'd felt as though he'd been watched before, when Needle and her accomplices had taken Barbara, but had shrugged it off as anxiety and paranoia. The feeling had been with him here as well, and something about the shape chilled him.

As though realising it had been spotted, the figure vanished. Batman hesitated for a moment. Needle's odd behaviour came back to him. She'd been utterly fearless in every encounter with him, had metaphorically spat in the face of the police and legal system at her trial... but occasionally, she showed real unease about something.

Was this watcher that something? The one who had killed the police officer at the burned-out warehouse?

He faced the choice of staying on the job, maybe catching Harley and Ivy, getting some clues to rescuing Barbara, or chasing shadows in the hope that it might unlock the taunting black mystery that had torn his secret life apart. Logically, he knew he should do the former. The figure might just have been a security guard on his break. Even if it wasn't, it might be some time before any information could be put to use against Needle.

Ignoring the twisting of his stomach, he went with logic, and dived down towards the tunnel exit, waiting.

* * *

"Careless. He must have seen you."

The figure shrugged. "It doesn't matter. We could have eliminated him if he'd interfered."

"You overestimate your abilities. He has an impressive record."

"So do I. Besides. His reaction was predictable. Deal with the current problem."

"Perhaps, but Dihkeh wouldn't like the risks you take. You're too reckless."

"Thus speaks the tactician. My job is to be reckless, Lachesis. My job is to clean up what you and your 'sisters' can't."

"This isn't a failure yet," Lachesis shot back. "You are a last resort. We're a long way from that, Bia."

Bia shrugged again. "We've come further out of hiding than we ever have done, all for the sake of a genetic mutation. I call that failure. Sending in Eunomia and Thallo was a mistake. We're showing too much of our hand. Eris or Apate could have killed the experiment in Arkham without any suspicion falling on us."

"That isn't your call to make."

"Perhaps."

The two fell silent, and returned to watching.

* * *

The vans screamed out of the tunnel like bats out of hell, and straight into the police roadblock. Men scattered for cover as a police car was rammed out of the way and flipped, denting the bonnet of the lead vehicle.

Commission Gordon leapt aside as the vans went straight over the spike mats laid down. Squealing out of control as their tyres shredded, the criminals careered towards the riverbank.

There was nothing to be done except watch as the two vans leapt into the air over the barriers, engines roaring, and splashed into the river. Cops hurried over to the bank, guns drawn and aimed downwards, but nothing broke the surface except bubbles.

"Guess that's it," Bullock remarked. "So much for the clown and the plant. Must've not been expecting the spikes."

Gordon nodded gloomily. "The banks won't be happy," he remarked. "They won't get their money back for a while. Good thing those vans are airtight."

Inwardly, he felt a surge of relief and anger. Ever since Barbara's kidnapping, he'd been on edge, driven far beyond his usual self to catch up with those responsible. Now two of them were dead. It had been his job to arrest them, but this was simpler. Cleaner. More just. Arkham's revolving door would have just spat them out again.

Closer to rescuing Barbara.

Just one more freak to deal with, and the nightmare might end.


End file.
